like some holy rite : Tag results

It started in your stomach - somewhere low and dark and deep you had almost forgotten you had, until it sang out to you. It felt like it began slowly, but in truth it moved very fast, time moves differently in heaven - everything is different in heaven, soon you will know - and though it seemed like an eon, in truth you were standing with your feet on the ground one moment and you were sent spinning the next. Spinning and twisting and turning, and you are so shocked at the sensation that it takes you a moment to find the right word for what is happening to you.
Falling. You are falling.
It sounds strange on your ten tongues; it is not a word Enochian was meant for. It is an abomination. And now so are you.
You twist and contort, trying to stop yourself, to fly back towards home, but nothing is listening, nothing is moving the way you want it to, you are still falling. You try to spread your wings but they are burning, you are burning, your other forms are withering away and you are being flayed into a human shape, some power is slicing away your glory and your grace and making you small; you are being decimated.
The pain is too much, you are still falling, and you scream and scream and you think for a moment that there is something divine still caught inside you as your scream is deafening, there is no room for another sound, but you manage to turn your head and see your brothers and sisters around you, and they are screaming too, and they are falling too, and together you are the sound and the fury and you descend towards Earth like an army of Icarus that the sun has cast out of its light.
You are still falling. Down on the ground, God’s people look up and see you, they stare and stare, and they do not know but they are looking at the comet of heaven split into little pieces, thousands upon thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand, and you are only a small part of the whole and you will crumble like a meteor when you land and the marks you make on the ground will fade in time, you are not eternal, you are still falling, you are nothing.
Above you heaven gets smaller and smaller, and your eyes get weaker - you only have two now - and you lift your fingers up - you only have ten now - and you try to grasp home in your hands but it is fading from you, it is too far, it is a star, you cannot climb back there, you are cleft, the seraphim are finally burning and whatever is left to smoulder when the descent is done will be nothing. You will be such a tiny part of what you once were. Your Father has forsaken you. You will have no name.
Stop screaming. Ignore the gashes on your shoulderblades where your wings once were, the blood streaming down your back. You are still falling. Brace for impact.

It started in your stomach - somewhere low and dark and deep you had almost forgotten you had, until it sang out to you. It felt like it began slowly, but in truth it moved very fast, time moves differently in heaven - everything is different in heaven, soon you will know - and though it seemed like an eon, in truth you were standing with your feet on the ground one moment and you were sent spinning the next. Spinning and twisting and turning, and you are so shocked at the sensation that it takes you a moment to find the right word for what is happening to you.

Falling. You are falling.

It sounds strange on your ten tongues; it is not a word Enochian was meant for. It is an abomination. And now so are you.

You twist and contort, trying to stop yourself, to fly back towards home, but nothing is listening, nothing is moving the way you want it to, you are still falling. You try to spread your wings but they are burning, you are burning, your other forms are withering away and you are being flayed into a human shape, some power is slicing away your glory and your grace and making you small; you are being decimated.

The pain is too much, you are still falling, and you scream and scream and you think for a moment that there is something divine still caught inside you as your scream is deafening, there is no room for another sound, but you manage to turn your head and see your brothers and sisters around you, and they are screaming too, and they are falling too, and together you are the sound and the fury and you descend towards Earth like an army of Icarus that the sun has cast out of its light.

You are still falling. Down on the ground, God’s people look up and see you, they stare and stare, and they do not know but they are looking at the comet of heaven split into little pieces, thousands upon thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand, and you are only a small part of the whole and you will crumble like a meteor when you land and the marks you make on the ground will fade in time, you are not eternal, you are still falling, you are nothing.

Above you heaven gets smaller and smaller, and your eyes get weaker - you only have two now - and you lift your fingers up - you only have ten now - and you try to grasp home in your hands but it is fading from you, it is too far, it is a star, you cannot climb back there, you are cleft, the seraphim are finally burning and whatever is left to smoulder when the descent is done will be nothing. You will be such a tiny part of what you once were. Your Father has forsaken you. You will have no name.

Stop screaming. Ignore the gashes on your shoulderblades where your wings once were, the blood streaming down your back. You are still falling. Brace for impact.

moses u little shit

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