(Yes, this is out of order. I wrote it on this day.)
What do mine eyes see? There comes in the distance the destroyer of men. What more could I ask, but to beg him not to come? We have called him, cried out for him in arcane rituals of pain and death and he strides across this world, a giant with a sword that cares nothing for what it wounds, only that blood spills out and dries to black.
What else do we call for, unknowing?
I fear we have only seen the beginning; the seed may have been planted in eons past, but the fruit grows ever more thickly, bursting acid on the ground that used to yield sweetness back when it was first made.
Come out from hiding, all ye lights, all ye fires that burst forth from what the world cannot see, but must know if this winter is ever to be held back and melted into the last spring we will ever need. O come, o come Life unending and forever victorious. O come, O come, and rescues us from ourselves.
In the end, we will see the bringer of love, against whom no destroyer can stand. Until then, I am afraid for those who call upon death they do not know is coming – a death they do not know obeys their voice above all.
O come, o come, he for whom the flowers open to reveal their hearts to the light.
O come, o come, he for whom the galaxies dance, he for whom the stars sing.
The destroyer raises his sword, and it drips with blood already, hungry for agony. We have felt its toxins dripping through the air and into the soil. We have felt its death breathe onto our skin and slide along our bodies.
We have felt the footsteps of his arrival try to shatter our bones for fear of him.
And he is terrifying.
But we have also heard the voice at the door, the one that takes all our sandpaper edges and turns them to diamond. We have heard that voice find the pathway into the deep part of our hearts we thought incapable of beating and illuminate it with life. We have heard the voice around the quiet edges of the darkness of the destroyer, turning back the sword, slowing those massive feet, declaring an end to his reign.
We have heard the voice of he who is both the gate and the path to that which we have all longed for since we first began. We have heard in his words the end of all striving, and the way to rest in perfect peace.
O come, o come, he who is with us even now and who leads us as the shadow of the sword grows ever darker.
O come, o come, he who breaks the empty ground so the seedlings can grow.
So many of our voices cry out in praise for the path the destroyer takes, but I beg you: cast aside your pride, your pain, your bitterness. Turn your face away from the faults of others. The destroyer is the fruit of accusation – seek no longer to condemn and blame. Turn away from the weapon of fear and look to a different sword, one that cuts to the core and reveals the truth we all seek. Turn to the voice whose words remove the layers of decaying flesh and open our hearts so that they can breathe again.
When the destroyer walks, his steps cause the earth to devour the gardens that would feed us.
When the bringer of love walks, his steps shatter the hills so that trees may rise from the new-formed earth.
Our future is not inevitable – it arrives at our call.
We have called the destroyer for so long, but we need not fear him.
O come, o come, Emmanuel.
And rescue captive Israel.
