Predestined

And with his fall
the Morning Star
casts shadow on Creation.
Seraphim weep
this Blessed hour
and God paints the dome
burnt hues of Demon fire.
The Inferno opens its jaws.
The Serpent strikes the Heel.
Yea, though Hope dawns anew
opposite in the firmament
for the Heel delivers the death-blow
so all Hell releases its victims
and to the east God rejoices
in anticrepuscular tints.
Oh! Light Bringer,
your fall, alone,
yields His Plan.