End Of Days Poem by Isiah On a Corner in the Thundering Darkness

When the white lions are covered with ice and we have paid this price, where will you look, whose name will you mutter. Utterances of the false ramblings of prophecies long lost and when you cross will it be to an emerald or a brimstone barricade whimpering for the forgiveness of your sins. Wishing for a way to go back and change things finding your way to an ever merciful Deus or stumbling with sadness uncomparable to a Prince of tricks, an emperor of lies who relishes the fear in your eye's.