Drip bullets drip bodies drip blood
Raw iron
Ironically
Is unassuming at best
Silver hands in his pockets, eyes unfixed on everything in particular
Even from here I can see that he is dreaming
But when finally is concentrate
Would annihilate nations at the flick of his flint wrist.
From across the valley, clay dust scales the mountain’s peak
Bentonite drinks whole all that surrounds it.
It is parched of reason, brittle and breaking at every conjecture
A nonmalleable god fit for the furnace.
At a distance one could mistake the iron and the clay
To be friendly— smug branches of the same vine
Brothers even, a genetic clone of the other
But
Magnetize and magnify;
No, I mean really hold the weight of the mountain in the palm of your hand.
Do you see it?
How repulsed they feel by their own byproduct?
So clay says to iron, he says:
“If only I could purchase our final dissolution”
“Indeed. How many peoples would pay the price
For our disaster?” Iron smelt.
Iron smelt death closing in,
hooves of a white stallion
reeked of their own free demise.
About: the dual Anglo-American world power
Daniel 2:34
post script// of course, this is just a poem; for a detailed explanation of this bible account check out the source Jehovah has provided!
