Poetry

Judgement 15

How the archangels came on I remember

In two ranks, Michael and Uriel first

And then the others wearing classic armour

Ready for bitter fighting and the worst

And then the angels followed without number

With wings and loosely fitting white robes dressed

No doubt so they can move freely between

The material world and what’s beyond the line.

The humans followed them I can assert

With Joan of Arc the fighting saint of France

And by her side that saint John of Kronstadt

And Paisius who gave Russia the chance

To enjoy God’s company when the age grew hard

Just as the Wesley brothers did so once,

And they were there. King Baldwin marched past then.

They opened up the path from God to men.

The people next, in their opposing sex,

The men and women who do different roles;

To me they were the fortunate elect

The quick and dead were everyone equals

Or rich or poor, they carried on their backs

The bergan of faith that through tears and smiles

They carried in life. That is what I saw

They marched past forward for an hour and more.

Alas, in that annihilated land

Right in the middle of the road they used,

A shaft was cut from inside underground

An empty hole a hundred meters wide

Perfectly cut so it as to be quite round

Like Bernard Lovell’s telescope which stood

At Jodrell Bank, though not up to the sky

But like a mine shaft going down below.

The land just sank into that massive pit;

I went toward the edge but not too close

And saw no reason and no point to it.

Now, if you can imagine those rainbows

That you have seen, imagine the inside

And think of how a channel made of colours

Can be a tunnel, that is how it was;

It made a noise, too, sort of like a buzz,

The noise of electricity pylons

Which hum continuously as they vibrate.

The people fell to falling in at once,

They seemed to want to, calm and resolute.

I shouted out to warn them in response,

Like anybody would witnessing that.

But worse was still to come; an octopus

With one big head came out of that abyss.

It was all muscle, lacking any bone,

And stretched itself out underneath its head

To move around crawl hither and yon.

The people had to flee to either side

Into the desert; but the head alone

Was fifty meters, and the arms stretched, wide,

So, most of them were pulled into the pit,

“It is a disaster, what is this!” I cried.

“We came so far to lose it at the last!”

But I was not equipped to intervene.

“Leviathan,” a voice said in their midst,

And that man who possessed the voice began

To make his way out, where I stood depressed:

“These are the remnant who refused to turn

Although they thought that they were Christians

With all their kindness for the muselmans

“It was a kindness aimed at heretics

And for each other in the warm embrace

Of this great beast which stops them in their tracks.

See that man falling down there was Bill Gates

A charitable man who sold the hoax

That this great beast could save the human race,

With tech and know-how and with close control.

But this beast was no more than an idol.

“See how it made the British and the Turks

Make war together at Sebastopol

Instead of working with the Orthodox.

And how, despite the means and power as well,

In India it did mercantile works

But missed the opportunity to tell

The Hindus and the Muslims all the truth

But left them to their wrong heretic faith.

“And so, eventually, the same at home.

World peace was what it called its heart’s desire.

And even enemies were made welcome.”

He had a fat, John Bullish stout figure,

And wore a southern German man’s costume

A short embroidered jacket is what he wore

And cut off trousers, stitched above the knee.

“Who are you?” I asked. This was his reply:

“God is a person. But they were too clever

Or to self-hating to believe that God

Was like them, and is watching them forever.

Be careful, though, to know what I have said

Does not release me from, or else dissever,

Me from the knowledge that he does exceed

A firm description. Just as you alone

Are living in your life, so he is one.”

“But you, who are you, sir?” I said again.

“Leviathan,” he said, and watched the scene,

And he, perhaps he could not hear me then,

Or else perhaps deep in meditation,

Failed to reply. When you look at the sun

You close your eyes and give your head a turn,

So I removed my gaze from that fell beast,

And looked at him, to put my mind at rest.

“You do not recognise me? You once came

To see the hut I built at Todtnauberg

You wrote my daughter, round about the time

When you were writing one or other book.

But what of that? We want to give a name

To the event we witness here at work.

They called Liberalism in my day

But looking deeper, it is Technology.

“Come closer, let us look.” We could inspect

The pit despite the great arms reaching out.

The shaft was something that an architect

Would build from glass and steel to absorb light

Ephemeral buildings that you would expect

In Rome or Alexandria, of late;

All straight and shining perpendicular

They were incredible, the things I saw.