SCI-FI/FANTASY Poem: Aequilibrium, by Peter Gunn

There’s a war beyond the veil, where fire stains the sky,
God’s voice, a storm of fury — a roar, a battle cry.
Not for crowns or stolen thrones, nor for land or gold,
But for the souls of mortals — a war both dark and old.
It rages in the silence, unseen by sleeping eyes,
A clash of light and shadow, where truth and treason rise.
The earth may seem unshaken, the air so calm and still,
But beneath the surface trembles the weight of Heaven’s will.

Satan still works in secret, shaping Hylics from the clay,
Empty shells of hollow flesh, like puppets on display.
Some bear demon spirits, with smiles like broken glass,
Others shift their faces, letting falsehoods come to pass.
They slither through the cities, their words a poisoned breath,
Shapeshifters cloaked in beauty, yet they reek of silent death.
Their purpose is corruption, to darken every mind,
To cut the cord to heaven and leave the truth behind.

They blur the lines of real and fake, of wrong and what is right,
They dance in gold and silver robes, while hiding from the light.
Their eyes are empty mirrors, cold as winter’s air,
Reflecting back the void inside, a gaze of dark despair.
They build their kingdoms out of lies, a castle made of sand,
And whisper secrets to the lost with blood upon their hands.
Each Hylic is a weapon, a hollow, soulless pawn,
Sent to blind the world to God before the breaking dawn.

But the light won’t bow, the flame won’t break,
For every Hylic born in hate,
God sends an Aeon, fierce and bright,
A blade of fire, forged in light.
The Aeons walk in silence, yet their presence shakes the ground,
Angelic souls in mortal flesh, where holy flames are bound.
Though veiled by human bodies, their spirits burn inside,
A secret war within their hearts, where heaven’s hopes reside.

It was decided they carry ancient wisdom, a spark that never fades,

A silent army marching on, with swords the Father made.
For every lie the Hylic speaks, an Aeon sings a truth,
A voice that cuts through shadow’s veil and shatters dark abuse.
They move like ghosts of morning’s light, unseen but ever near,
Breaking chains the demons forge, and casting out all fear.
Their blood is fire, their breath is flame, their purpose bold and clear,
To guard the souls of sleeping men and whisper God is here.

Though Hylics appear through shadowed halls,
And curse the heavens as night falls,
The Aeons rise, unbound, untamed,
With burning hearts and souls unchained.
The battle rages, fierce and long,
A war of silence, sharp and strong.
The serpent coils, the lion roars,
As the angels pound on Hell’s doors.

So when yours feels cold and lost,
And hope seems frozen under frost,
Remember, Aeons walk beside,
With unseen wings and holy pride.
The war is silent, yet it sings,
Of broken chains and fallen kings.
And though the Hylics rule the sites,
God’s truth ignites and never dies.