Apocalyptic Spark

The World didn't drown in an endless flood,
The ground was never Red with Human blood.
The Red that engulfed the Earth was Hellish fire,
As the Demons rose to expand their empire.


No song rang of sense the day the World died,
No cave nor prayer could have helped us to hide
As the yellow Sun looked down with a Red eye,
While a Golden cloud got larger, taking the sky.


As the cloud Golded all the sky overhead,
A whiteness broke as Gold held back the Red.
The Golden sky now a bright white which blinded,
Till the white lessened and a shadow descended.


The shadow broke and splintered to pieces,
As the eyes recovered from the brightness,
They revealed to me a truly marvelous vision,
The shadows were Heaven's Angels, over a million.


They hurtled towards the Earth as if fallen,
As if seeking to leave craters, over a million.
But their wings flapped, what could this have meant?
Why has the Angels' flight embodied a hasty intent?


As they came closer to the ground and the Humans below,
The Red Sun burned a Red beam through Cloud and shadow.
The Red beam touched the ground before the Angels could,
And lit that patch of Earth on Fire as if it were dry wood.


The Angels flew faster as the flame burned high and hot and Red,
A new fire birthed as a new beam broke through to the World's bed.
Finally the Angels touched the ground and reached the Humans,
As they carried a Soul in each arm, back to the Golden gates of Heaven.


As they touched the cloud and turned around,
The tall raging flames let out a cold eerie sound.
I saw something deep in that burning Red,
It turned and twitched, a creation most twisted.


The Angels touched the ground and again carried more,
The Red flame burned shorter, the sound now a roar.
As the first Red flame burned out at birth of creation,
No fire, but a Red figure drew its first breath, Fire's demon.