Placeholder: timeline illustration by Gustave Doré of angels and demons according to the bible from the Genesis to the Apocalypse. timeline illustration of evolution of timeline of angels and demons evolution of timeline of angels and demons evolution of timeline of angels and demons timeline illustration by Gustave Doré of angels and demons according to the bible from the Genesis to the Apocalypse. timeline illustration of evolution of timeline of angels and demons evolution of timeline of angels and demons evolution of timeline of angels and demons

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timeline illustration by Gustave Doré of angels and demons according to the bible from the Genesis to the Apocalypse. timeline illustration of evolution of timeline of angels and demons evolution of timeline of angels and demons evolution of timeline of angels and demons

distorted image, malformed body, malformed fingers

2 months ago

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SSD-1B

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[art by Slipknot] In the ethereal stillness of the celestial realm, Metatron, the chief of winged angels, descended. His radiant wings shimmered like starlight, casting a celestial glow across the heavens. Suddenly, a tremor rippled through creation. God struck the three hundred and ninety heavens, and they quaked in reverent awe. From His eyes, tears flowed—hot as molten fire—cascading down like fiery rain into the vast ocean below. The waters stirred, roiling with sorrow as waves ignited in a
If mighty angels fair and tall, Each robed as priestly seneschal, On altar-suns burn incense daily, As wheel the systems to Love's sweet call, Earth's sun is sure an altar-rose, Abloom from dawn to day's bright close. The mighty angel stoops above it With pulsing wings, as it golden glows, To fan the incense-waves through space. When buds the light or folds its grace, He lifts erect his glorious stature, Kindling the sky from his ruddy face.
In the ethereal stillness of the celestial realm, Metatron, the chief of winged angels, descended with radiant wings that shimmered like starlight. He approached the divine throne where God, cloaked in magnificent glory. a tremor rippled through creation as God struck the three hundred and ninety heavens, causing them to shudder in awe. Tears, hot as molten fire, flowed from His eyes, cascading into the vast ocean below, stirring its depths and igniting waves of sorrow.In that moment, the cosmos
An archangel sent to earth does away with all pagan and commercial influences that corrupt Christian Easter, in the eternal struggle between good and evil...
If mighty angels fair and tall, Each robed as priestly seneschal, On altar-suns burn incense daily, As wheel the systems to Love's sweet call, Earth's sun is sure an altar-rose, Abloom from dawn to day's bright close. The mighty angel stoops above it With pulsing wings, as it golden glows, To fan the incense-waves through space. When buds the light or folds its grace, He lifts erect his glorious stature, Kindling the sky from his ruddy face.
If mighty angels fair and tall, Each robed as priestly seneschal, On altar-suns burn incense daily, As wheel the systems to Love's sweet call, Earth's sun is sure an altar-rose, Abloom from dawn to day's bright close. The mighty angel stoops above it With pulsing wings, as it golden glows, To fan the incense-waves through space. When buds the light or folds its grace, He lifts erect his glorious stature, Kindling the sky from his ruddy face.
drawing by artist Otto Rapp: souvenirs of Babel
Behold the visions you have seen. That which you have viewed. That which you now view. “Complex, isn’t it?” Viewing that which was, ye have seen the age of science and logic. They ruled them you know… Yes, ruled… Those bible-thumpers were put to rest, don’t ya know. And… From rubble and slime and filth… Science but… an Arcadian civilisation!!! Yes, yes… eh… They had a hand in you, too, laddie… Yes, they did! And wot do ye think happened? I’ll tell ye wot buddy ‘appened! For a millenium, science
If mighty angels fair and tall, Each robed as priestly seneschal, On altar-suns burn incense daily, As wheel the systems to Love's sweet call, Earth's sun is sure an altar-rose, Abloom from dawn to day's bright close. The mighty angel stoops above it With pulsing wings, as it golden glows, To fan the incense-waves through space. When buds the light or folds its grace, He lifts erect his glorious stature, Kindling the sky from his ruddy face.
Behold the visions you have seen. That which you have viewed. That which you now view. “Complex, isn’t it?” Viewing that which was, ye have seen the age of science and logic. They ruled them you know… Yes, ruled… Those bible-thumpers were put to rest, don’t ya know. And… From rubble and slime and filth… Science but… an Arcadian civilisation!!! Yes, yes… eh… They had a hand in you, too, laddie… Yes, they did! And wot do ye think happened? I’ll tell ye wot buddy ‘appened! For a millenium, science
Michael archangel
Och aye, and light itself pays homage to your gracious form! Each beam and glimmer falls from rafters in nimbus-ring, limning sweet bounties in gilded glow to stir rawlest hungers in lowliest of witnesses. You dance divine amid halo bright as solstice fire, wilder and fairer than aught this mortal lens deserves blesséd view of... So guide my grasping mind's-eye still deeper into your woodland realm of sweat and worship, dear Fiona sprite! From fonts of bliss at which you wove first magic shall b
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