He stood within the clouds as His foot touched ground on the mountain top, one which shook in centuries past as He walked by in his glory. In that day so long ago, only a moment from His life, He set in place the day that had now come; a day of judgment.
Looking back over the years since the making of the world, viewing once more those many down falls of His greatest work; Man. Yes, the remnant still held, but only a small few that were made to hide in fear by an oppressive world; condemned, only for seeking to know the truth. For wanting a life of peace with their loving God, instead of the shadowed greatness of the world which is nothing but lies.
A tear forms in His eye as He watches once more as the first man is lead astray but the words of the enemy, being made to believe in the lie by the seed of greed planted secretly in his heart. That seed grew through the years to lustful pride, and jealousy, marking those of the world with a scare of hatred; carved in their brow with anger for all others in the world, even themselves.
The earth groaned and shook from the pain man had inflicted upon it, ripping it clean of the wealth that should have lasted far into the future. Covering it with waste, filth, and the blood of innocent children, in their mad schemes to have greatness in a world they destroyed daily.
The tear rolls slowly down His cheek as He watches once more the desecration of His holy temple, the heart of a nation set aside to witness His coming. They turned so often in the greed for greater things, possessions He would gladly have given as blessings to His chosen people. He watched sadly as a new people rose up to give praise, only to turn away themselves for pride and self-glory, not knowing that they followed a highway to their own ruin.
Looking down to the foot of the mountain, He watched as the multitude gathered, the vastness of His army; those slain in seeking Him in truth, called for this final battle. He lifted His eyes to Heaven, waiting the words from His Father to go forth; waiting to cleanse His creation of the stain the enemy had brought upon it at the hand of Man. For a moment all of creation stood still, as a sad whisper spoke into His heart.
“The time has come,” His Father spoke, “Woe unto Man, the End is now upon them.”
The Lord raise His hand and a sword flashed in the heavens, the clear call of trumpet’s blast the earth as the flaming sword came down upon the un-Godliness of the world. The end had come, Judgment was at hand.
Flames roared from the sword of His anger, burning a cutting swath across the land. Lands once pure in their goodness, corrupted through the years by a desire for more, forcing the rich soil to die off. The purity of His wrath, cut through as the refiners fire burnt clean to the very bedrock of the land.
The armies of the enemy came boldly before Him, but His wrath could not be with held. The chosen army of Heaven flew through their ranks; cutting down the enemy like wheat, the burning flames built higher; even the stubble was consumed and its ashes spread out in a driving wind.
A cleansing fire rained down from the heavens, sweeping all things away in a twinkling of an eye. The cries of the vanquished called out in their torment, as the precious One wept for their losses.
Then stillness settled over all of creation like a blanket, a moment of silent in the ending of the world's time. For a moment nothing moved upon the surface of creation. Then, from heaven, a single tear drop fell into the ashes of the world's remains, as the life of Man came to and end.
The King stood forth in that final hour, His tears mixing with those of His Father, in sorrow He beheld the end of His great creation. In that very hour words were spoken in the heavens like the clear call of trumpets sounding.
“The end has come, the harvest is complete. Now bring forth the replanting.”
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