The Lord’s Wrath

The skies bled crimson and the Earth trembled beneath these shoes. There we stood, lo and behold, a mere congregation of onlookers, gazing up at the unfolding spectacle of His fury.

The Lord’s gaze pierced through the stacks of dark tumultuous clouds, through the tempest of winds, and his eyes lit bright like the fires of Ifrit.

Around me were voices that rose in a symphony of prayers, an orchestra of desperate pleas against the end of times.

The air was thick, fogged, with the scent of impending doom. The horizon, clouded, once a distant flare stretched by the sun’s beautiful rays tracing out to the rest of the sky, now bore the weight of an inevitable conclusion.

In that moment, as the very fabrics of space and time cracked open and the sound of His celestial wrath sent reverberations through the heavens, I felt the true gravity of why we’re here, our punitive existence in this array of stars, a final gasp before eternity.

The Lord, in his immense power, the eidolon of destruction, reminded us of our place among the stars and the dust that’s left in their wake.

For we were just witnesses to the end, the final act of a play written by the hands of God, and our roles were etched in the fragments of time… Not as heroes, but as silent observers to the wrath of the heavens on Earth.