TRINITY’S FALL

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The sky goes dark, the moon bleeds red,

Stars fall like figs—heaven’s thread torn.

The Trinity’s mask—sun, moon, and stars,

Fading as God’s true face roars,

Yahweh’s glory, no longer veiled.

Sun’s Yahweh, moon’s Jesus—mirrored light,

Stars hum the Spirit’s tune, divine might.

But when God speaks, the mask falls away,

Neither the Father nor the Son holds sway.

 

Jesus, flesh-born from Adam’s seed,

A mirror, not the fire—

No mortal can face the blaze of Yahweh,

The true Creator, beyond the veil.

Jesus was prefigured, an heir, not equal,

The Son, the servant—he bows to the Father,

The Trinity’s twisted echo fades,

Only the Creator’s rule remains.

 

From Genesis to Paul’s pitch,

The gods of nations scatter—

Yahweh, supreme, while others serve,

Angels hum, divine echoes ring.

No idols, just one Creator,

Jesus reborn to lead the way,

Not to be worshipped, but to serve,

A bridge, not the builder of the world.

 

The elect stumble, but Jesus stands,

A servant king, to the end.

The stars—the divine assembly,

Not the source of everything,

But reflections of God’s own power.

 

Trinity’s a twist—

Jesus not God, but man reborn,

Yahweh’s a Father, but not Creator.

Heaven’s true light—a distant roar,

The Mother of Fathers births them all.

She alone deserves all glory—

After all, none equals Her Majesty.