Open the eyes of my heart Lord...
On the massive Throne Podium high above the fishbowl universe, Yahaveh looked upon Mariah sadly before he fell to his face before the Thrones; the Son of God gestured him to stand. And three and a half miles below the Throne Podium, hundreds of millions of the Martyred by the Blood waited in depressive expectation.
With tears streaming Mariah looked into The One's red eyes, sputtering on the words. “O Lord, I bring to your remembrance when all the morning stars sang with joy. Though we're stupid compared to your infinite wisdom, incline your ear to our supplications and forgive us for asking repeatedly; but tell us again, how long my Lord?
“How long will you permit your enemy dominion over those who love you? How long will they be beasts of burden, cattle, fleeced, and ridden into the dusts of death by those that absolutely hate you? How long will you allow this scalding wickedness in your face while blatantly letting our tears be disparaged, unavenged, and always ignored? How long will you let them turn your glory into shame? And how much longer must we witness the madness and blood, and see our brothers suffer blast furnace tortured without reprieve, for supposed righteousness' sake?
“And though righteousness seems an eternity in coming, we're still incapable of calling your abeyance unsound no matter how deep it wounds. With the tears and trembling hearts, we beg you Lord to end the insufferable unimaginable injustice below us. How can anyone be happy in this Heaven when our brothers are slaughtered day and night in our very faces? Bestow your favor upon your children and forget not your suffering servants, who ask for vengeance on the Synagogue of Satan that absolutely hates you, our brothers, and us…”
David shifted uncomfortably warring to align himself to holiness and The One's will. He struggled to remind himself that he was third in Command; spoke for The One, lived for The One, and was Heaven's highest Subaltern High Priest – The Light, and he fought mightily against the ‘somehow Mariah made plenty sense’. He failed.
“…Destroy the stinking Kenites now, that foolish nation who wars stupid, gallivanting the whole earth, broadcasting nauseous evil and beating down everyone who loves you! Your addictive soap opera called the fishbowl universe causes unending depressions and sadness, making the past brotherhood we once had a wisp, some meaningless memory, an unsearchable functionally unremembered that's rewarded with nothing but intolerable agony!
“If you won't consider our brokenness, please consider your precious Earth Father – the only planet not named for pagan's sake, still wearing the holy designation you bestowed when it was our Heaven so long ago. We know you love her, for you’ve proclaimed our Earth will never pass away. Reclaim the planet you gave to our greatest enemy and end this horrific nightmare, in Jesus the Exalted One's name we humbly ask...”
The three sitting on the Thrones trembled under the righteous onslaught; tears cascaded as bellows of black depression washed over they who were The One. Realizing there was no comfort, no reprieve, no time out, no consolation, no answer or action that'd bring closure to the nuclear evil that crushed millions of hearts viciously; the Lord of Hosts choked back a sob as he struggled trembling.
The Zoon vibrated mournful diapason as Mariah continued undaunted, the gold flooring before him wet with tears. “I know you're absolutely sick of us constantly in your face; but we have no recourse but to ask again and one more time. Eradicate the evil rebellious from our Heaven and destroy the Synagogue of Satan off the earth, because they're not like us, like me and you, and do not treasure brotherhood, love, or venerate you – and are constantly defecating on your holy names and everything you love.”
Mariah choked hard, backgrounded by hundreds of millions roaring repeatedly in concordance, How long Lord?
“...We strive to mediate on your infinite goodness only, but we swelter under the blackest blasphemy, ruminating on Lucifer day and night, obsessively hating his unholy guts instead of venerating the glorious how you love us. Open the eyes of our hearts Lord so we can see your glory again, for we are blind to everything but the scalding evil below us. And we stand imperfect against you for we cannot change ourselves in this one matter, though in your grace you've counted us perfect by giving us eternal life.
“But we say we’re flawed and not worthy! With ten billion tears, we've sought relief from the scalding evil below us that makes your grandness, holiness, and beauty moot and insignificant. And that's not right Lord, because we proudly wear your name in our very souls!”
Mariah fell to his knees lifting his hands dramatically to the Thrones, as the mournful weeping continued escalating nuclear, shaking the foundations of The Great House of The One.
“All creation is the mountain of the Lord; you're the God of Jacob, Abraham, and us: the judge destined to rebuke blinding stupidity. We know all souls shall beat their swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks, and no nation shall ever lift sword against nation – and neither shall they learn war anymore.”
Vibrating under the onslaught of the roaring wails, The One wiped the hottest tears as the Zoon knelt giving brilliant respect.
“Forgive me Sire for our disrespect, for we know your ways are higher than ours, as the heavens are above the earth below us. But waiting for righteousness has become a punishing verisimilitude that causes us to constantly adjust our expectations - to the evil that grows exponentially without abatement below us. Slay the wicked now, end the bondage of corruption and offer comfort to your suffering children, for the unrepentant have drunk the cup damnation willingly with eyes wide open! Avenge my murder and the hundreds of millions like me who were slain tortured for your love, fidelity, and the soldiering hard for your immeasurable beauty...”
Mariah fell crushed in front of the Thrones literally drowning in tears, convulsing in misery and sorrow, as the thunderous escalating thunder of millions on the verge of insanity continued unabated below him. Overcome with uncontrollable emotion, David lowered his head as the hottest tears rained through his quivering hands, falling copiously onto his robe of light.
Many slow seconds ticked as The One looked sadly at Mariah, absorbing the massive auditory onslaught. He rose from his Throne overwhelmed in the bellows of wretchedness deluging him – the mournful wails of those designated the finest gold, the precious priceless, and the finished purified faithful eternal.
God paused; This could not be fixed with mere words.
And that moment became the straw that broke the camel's back. The Martyred in the Blood began to vociferate out of their minds, falling onto the floor, gyrating fitfully, drowning in the blackest agony. The righteous roars of millions bellowed blast furnace intense over The Lord of Hosts as he looked incredulously at the pandemonium below him, wiping tears.
The One drew hundreds of millions into his arms, calming them as a mother comforts a fussy baby. Yahshua entered covering each soul with the softest blanket designated the Holy Spirit. The torturous wailing instantly stopped. Yahaveh and Yahshua looked at each other stunned as the Zoon roared stridently in the background.
The Lord of Host spoke a dimensional shift into existence below his Thrones, a temporal reality a whole planet big – where the Holy Spirit saturated the very atmosphere like thick humidity. It was a million fold heavy, another reality past the brim inundated with the Living God, raining the absolute holy, and every breath inhaled designated the very Spirit of God.
And they transported Mariah and the Martyred under their Thrones. They danced blind with ecstasy and sonic joy; but every now and then, a voice departed from the encompassing joy and roared, how long Lord, before engulfed again by the Holy Spirit.
And from that day forth, every Martyred in the Blood lived under his Thrones, for The One had deep compassion and sheltered them, for they were soul-sick of the monstrous wickedness always in their faces. And Yahaveh understood their agony and respected them more for it, because it was birthed from wisdom, righteousness, and great agape love for their brothers and him...