The Last Judgment

Your Honor—

Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury—

Here at the Last Judgment,

It is incumbent upon me,

The prosecution,

On behalf of mortal men,

To prove beyond a reasonable doubt

The undeniable guilt of God.

Millenia have gone by,

Elohim, God the Great—

Let us read from the Time’s ledger written on slate,

And may the Jury hear and decide Your fate.

They say You, Yahweh, are perfection—

Unable even to be in the presence of sin.

Society blames the woman, Eve,

For she first ate of the apple.

But lest we forget she was deceived,

By one of Your high angels—

The Morning Star—

Light of Your Light,

Fallen from the Radiant Realm—

Was that not the original sin?

The moment evil did begin?

Treason committed—

Angels clashed and collided—

Up in the High Heavens where Your Glory resided.

The human experiment quickly went awry—

When jealousy poisoned the heart inside—

The race of men—

Forever marred by fratricide.

Humanity devoured the world with wretchedness

And You, Lord of Justice—

You flooded the earth—the rains You did bring—

You murdered Every. Living. Thing.

You saved one “righteous” family

And two of every beast.

But that is not justice—not in the least.

And even Noah, spared of Your wrath,

In drunken debauchery veered from the path.

The sins of the flesh were repeated again—

What hope was there for the succession of men?

From Eden’s fall to Noah’s flood,

The ledger’s ink is stained with blood.

Now let us look at Sodom and Gomorrah.

We talk of bombs in modern wars

And hold men accountable for civilian deaths—

But what of the innocent in those two cities?

Where was Your grace?

Did You dismiss it?

They were burned alive with those complicit.

And what of Lot’s wife?

Was she showing compassion or fear or shock?

Was it disbelief that the Lord of Love

Would send such hellfire from above?

Abba—

Father of Forgiveness—

You say the other cheek we should turn,

But when she looked back to see the city burn,

Where was her second chance?

To salt she turned for a simple glance.

Should we hear from a witness—

Perhaps the account of faithful Job?

You who gives and takes away—

A test of resilience—will Your servant stay?

But tell me—

Should we still praise Your name?

Are You worthy of the titles that men acclaim?

You gambled with the Devil—was it just a game?

What parent would risk such a wager?

How could that be love?

A God of chosen people—

The elite who will be saved—

You, Adonai, God of Mercy—

Would You let all others be enslaved?

It does not seem very merciful

To limit Your unconditional salvation.

Was there ever a chance for anyone else?

Or was the design always mass condemnation?

You who taught the Good Samaritan—

The importance of helping those in need—

Yet, in Your high heavens, Elyon,

Do You not see all those who bleed?

All the hurt and harm that You witness—

And still, You do nothing but let it subsist?

Beyond the stories from sacred text,

The testimonies I could summon next—

Abuse—

Enslavement—

Rape—

Extermination—

Tis true it is the choice of men

To enact such loathsome actions.

But what of the Spirit born within?

Made in Your image, are we not Your kin?

Just as a parent must speak for their child,

Or a teacher account for their student,

If men are to be held responsible,

Then, so too, must the Heavens own their part.

You are said to be the Light,

But if You are omnipresent

Then are You not also of the Shadow?

And if You are omniscient and omnipotent,

Are You perhaps more guilty than You are innocent?

I do not proclaim the innocence of men—

Far be it.

But neither do I

Accept the innocence of El Shaddai.

I am nothing more than a man with questions,

But with such doubts, I rest my case

And open the floor to Your confessions.

What say You?

Through the eyes of a man, it as you say,

Each of the accounts you bring forth today,

They are the teachings of humble men

Attempting to convey through mortal pen

That which I am, but they all fall short

For I am not that which they exhort.

I will not stand here and try to defend

Except to say that I am no God of Men.

I am God of All—

I transcend.

I am the force that cannot be named—

The essence that simply is—untamed.

Know that I have died before

And I will die a thousand times more

Until the day you finally understand

From the Garden of Eden,

You were never banned.

It was your shame that drove you away

It was your fear that you kept you at bay.

I never desired death and sacrifice

But know that I will pay any price

Whatever it takes for you to finally see,

That all is Love—

Come—

Join me.

If the wages of mortal sin are death,

Then perhaps it is time—

Time for the God of Men to die—

Time for the God of Religion to fade

So that I may be free—

Free from the confines of the world and the word—

Free from the constructs of this dogma—absurd—

Free from the wisdom of men inferred.

Free to simply be—

For I am that I am.