S E R A P H
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Trust In God
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The Lord is my light and my salvation
Whom do I fear?
The Lord is my life's refuge
Of whom am I afraid?
When evildoers come at me
To devour my flesh
These my enemies and foes
Themselves stumble and fall
Though an enemy encamp against me
My heart does not fear
Though war be waged against me
Even then do I trust
One thing I ask of the Lord
This I seek
To dwell in the Lord's house
All the days of my life
To gaze on the Lord's beauty
To visit his temple
For God will hide me in his shelter
In time of trouble
Will conceal me in the cover of his tent
And set me high upon a rock
Even now my head is held high
Above my enemies on every side!
I will offer in his tent
Sacrifices with shouts of joy
I will sing and chant praise to the lord
Hear my voice, Lord, when I call
Have mercy on me and answer me
"Come," says my heart. "Seek God's face"
Your face, Lord, do I see!
Do not hide your face from me
Do not repel your servant in anger
You are my help
Do not cast me off
Do not forsake me
God, my savior!
Even if my father and mother
Forsake me
The lord will take me in
Lord, show me your way
Lead me on a level path
Because of my enemies
Do not abandon me to the will of my foes
Malicious and lying witnesses
Have risen against me
But I believe I shall enjoy the lord's goodness
In the land of the living
Wait for the lord, take courage
Be stouthearted
Wait for the lord
---Psalm Twenty-seven
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"Remember me fondly..." he gave him one last smile. "Wherever it is that gods flee to, I will remember you...oh, Zechs...it would have been wonderful...your death would have that much value to it. If you died, you'd be free. Farewell, Zechs Merquise..."
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The memories and thoughts and fragments of dreams clung to the images of god and angels and demons.
Treize Khushrenada, the beloved general, the harmful lover, the corpse rotting beneath ground covered daily in roses by an agnostic woman who had no faith, but loved god more than her sanity and more than her own ideals.
Treize Khushrenada, the emobodiment of the only god who had enough power and enough grace to disallow any hatred from staining his name. God, who created all and who reveled in all things involving light and love.
Treize Khushrenada, the demanding lover, the idealistic leader.
Treize, who demanded that he die for him. Who declared his unfathomable love by asking him to perish. To forget all of his plans of proving his absoluteness, his omnipotence false.
God, who is now dead. Who does not answer when he screamed out his name.
The difference now being, that he cannot hear his pleas, when before he chose to ignore them.
God, who was the first Judas, the first betrayer.
Who caressed him, who ran his fingers through his hair and cast him away for the sake of creating a purpose for existence.
God, who whispered to him softly...
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"Even when I hate myself...even when I feel your pain when you cry...even though your heart is cold...it is worthwhile, it is all worthwhile..."
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God, who denied love to those who he declared to love most, to his first children.
God, who loved creation, but refused to allow candor and affection to anyone besides him...but who happily allowed humanity to forget about him, to worship others...and DID NOT PUNISH THEM.
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"Hurry up and return to me Zechs, because if you're not around, OZ will allow worthless actions by worthless people..."
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It was a grey-cast memory.
A fainted and blurred emotion of what he once thought it had been possible to feel.
To have removed from the presence of the Creator...to be denied the one entity who he had freely loved, who is had not been mandatory to love... Michael...
His brother...angel of soldiers...second born and created from dream images taken from his own mind...God's gift of torture, of repentance and of suffering...
If anger, if jealousy would have allowed his a reprisal, if god had not humanity such freedom as that of dualistic beliefs of good and evil...if God's planned farced had not been succeeding, he would have found no reason to rise up from the depths of his appointed hell. He would have remained in the layers of darkness and despair and watched love from afar.
He would have given up everything once and for all, if God had not decided to play human and force Michael down with him.
And as it was...he hadn't known until it was too late for it to matter, that Treize was He Who Made Him...but Lucrezia...Noin, he knew about.
and now...
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"Treize, stop following me around or else i'll just want to fulfill your radical hopes...this friendship of the past, will only last until my mask breaks...and now, I cannot be your friend anymore. Farewell, Treize."
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...now...
his voice. the reassurance that i'd had. the only memory that
hadn't dimmed---it was gone. the fatality of this disease, this
wretched existence had taken his voice from me. should i too await for
my last semblance of being to evaporate? should i lose what little soul
i was allowed to keep? should death put to sleep the emotions that i
have found to be lacking?
Michael cannot speak.
I am dying for the sound of his goodbye.
And it is now in time of his greatest worry, of his most unceasing agony, that his heaviest sin falls upon him. In the moment of being able to feel life, to feel the death that decays his heart and withers his expectations for happiness...he remembers the first thought that he had during his fall:
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"How can it be that it pains me more to bear my own loneliness that to witness the suffering and the death of my love?"
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God is dead.
Heaven is crumbling.
And the Devil sheds tears for his brother.
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And this is where I remain stalled. Perhaps I shall be able to continue someday. If some kind of revelation for the pacing of the story hits me. Thank you all for taking the time to read and for your kind comments.
