The Beast In His Lair

Perfect in beauty, wisdom and honor,
An angel of perfection, until godless in dispair,
Immoral and corrupt, he was blackened forevermore,
A third of the stars, he brought to is lair.

From the gates of Heaven, to Mount Moriah,
A tortured son of God, will one day be a man,
In devious magnificence, every one turned pariah,
And the mighty hand of God, turns them according to plan.

Inflamed in his anger, the Beast waits in his lair,
Until his own Maker, raises this son of perdition,
Ensconced in his palace, he strokes his golden hair,
And waits in vain, as his God mover every partition.

He is nothing to contend with, a simple brush of air,
The Beast is consumed with magnificence,
He is led with his own tail, mindless and without care,
Until he is burned of his perfection, bereft of his brilliance.