The angel of retribution's iron wings displayed a camp of ice on the city today.
This German ángel, broken his ankles, dressed in a black wool's tunic? Himself: you know him.
His curled hairs did sway slowly in the blizzards that himself created, and for a while, his deeds were not matter of ulterior judgement: for a while, the time did stand still (phrase which contains a paradox, as you can see).
Standing at the city gates, he beheld this Babylon with fury: the angel stopped the Sun on its path, and the sleepers who, slowly, started waking up, realized that the Sun was an absent friend that dawn: and it was in the middle of the Summer... the population was running out of barley.
The sunrise was verified at 7 PM.
That day, the roosters crowed in the evening, the roosters.
Along with Saint Joseph of Arimathea, the bread and the belated milk arrived to Anglia
and beyond, to the Channel Islands, to this side
the angel left, taking all the ice toward the Germany, homeland of the ices.
That year was called The Green Year, because of the the green eyes of the angel, and his furious stare
the ice was green too, de verdad.
Saint Joseph of Arimathea returned walking slowly, full of peace, on an eternally sunny and dusty path, toward the celestial Ieru Shalom; where only the circumcized enters:
and the goy and the dog and the whore, they are rejected, and die fulminated at the gates by the belated and saint milk of the barbate wise men, who dwell on auric thrones, Heaven above.
Fulminated at the gates
auric thrones
with valence 3
and they're only part of the Glory.
The angel of retribution's iron wings displayed a camp of ice on the city today.
This German ángel, broken his ankles, dressed in a black wool's tunic?
Himself: you know him.
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