To Kill An Angel Soul

What would you do to save the world?
Would you kill another savior?
One may be amused, but what if you burnt all angels as witches,
And unable to stand those theatrical trials of the falsely accused,
Or inescapable fate of the curiously abused,
Souls of both Angel’s and savior’s stopped coming from the sky?
Would your Earth simply crumble and die?

What would you do with dead soil?
There’s not much joy in Earth scarred by toil…
And toil does scar, muses can tell,
So, if you feel you must, sacrifice all of them as well.
…To the artist’s pursuit of self-grandeur,
And art gratified by empty sensations of lust over love.
Thus… if muses too stopped raining down from above,
Would the earth simply dry up?

So with no angels or muses left to inspire
The sleeping to wake, the weary to tire,
The unknowing to know, and all little nothings to grow
In aspiration to achieve and stand higher…
Riddle me please, what would happen with your science,
When even good science comes from good forces?
What of science then, if there are no more good voices
To influence greater and better choices?

What would you do, and would you even wonder why,
Regarding that day that all good souls stopped coming from the sky,
And the Earth simply passed away…
“Some things can’t be genetically modified,
Fabricated then sold under a megalithic enterprise–”
Souls inscribed with the last words of the wise,
“–There is such a thing called ‘soul’…”
Quoth the shamans that are nevermore.

The day healers stopped healing…
What can the grieving do but remorse,
The day healers stopped feeling…
Postlude to that great divorce,
Of substance from synergy.
Breeds them, the walking dead, you see.
Thus, what would you do in a future with no light?
As Earth looses all good souls to shut eyes,
Because flames that burn bright went to places more kind.

So what would you do to save the world?
Would you find another savior to lynch?
Or perhaps burn another angel-witch?
With no souls to supply the spirit its daily bread,
Would you wonder why they left your planet as dead?
When all good soul races know
That there are better places to inspire to greatness.
So do what you do… but what if it’s true…
Even Earths grow tired and there is only one for you.

(New-agey-weird-shit-of-the-day inspired by the orphic inscription: “I am child of the Earth and the starry Heaven, but my race is of Heaven alone…”)