The feast of the seagulls hover over no-man’s land waiting for the unprepared to strike the first blow.
Foolish men of war help themselves to heavens armoury and with unknown arrogance they assume the knowledge of instruction on how to wield them. They sharpen tools for the vintage wrath of the King while the humble quietly empty their hands.
The meek know the power of the sword and who bears the weight of it.
The visible bride veils the true bride as she readies in the sanctuary. A purity set apart prepares her while the foolish flaunt the tools of their own destruction.
In peace, the humble shall inherit borderland because they go forth not. They wait in the shadow of the King as heaven releases the almighty host for war.
At the sound of the trumpet, God’s army thunders across borderland while men of war charge into the enemy’s ambush. The angelic host cry out:
Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus Dominus Deus sabbaoth.
Pleni sunt caeli et terra gloria tua.
Hosanna in excelsis.
Benedictus qui venit in nomine domini. Hosanna in excelsis.
With shield and sickle the harvest begins and in peace, the meek inherit borderland.
…the birds will feed on those who die in the country. 1 Kings 21:24