The plight of the Devil

 

Just when he could take it no longer,

he saw the winged seraphim descend.

Six wings that create the fiercest winds,

and six halos that illuminate the darkest nights.

They were adorned in shades

incomprehensible to the common man.

But in that light and the spectrum of shades,

he saw chains made of primordial powers.

Chains that bind the mighty angels.

Chains that seeks to bind his desires,

to the will of a maker that he cares nothing about.

In that light, he saw admiration of countless souls,

but it comes with the cost of eternal servitude.

In that light, there was power, but he knew,

with time, what it would devour.

He ran from the light with the might of the stars.

His will can light the stars,

but in front of the maker,

it wasn't enough.

He ran from the angels with all his might;

his wings could cause ripples in space,

but in front of the maker,

it wasn't enough.

He was stripped of his prowess,

but he was happy,

for now, he is free to make his powers.

So he descends deep, where he can reap his desires.