The Whore of Babylon

"One of the seven angels who had the seven bowls came and said to me, 'Come, I will show you the punishment of the great prostitute, who sits by many waters. With her the kings of the earth committed adultery, and the inhabitants of the earth were intoxicated with the wine of her adulteries.'" - Revelation 17:1-2

Upon a darkened day, near ending, in her city, vile, unbending,
I beheld her dreadful splendor, a queen both terrible and fair.
In robes of crimson, gold entwining, on her brow a symbol shining—
Seven heads around her binding, seven beasts beside her lair.
“Tell me, queen of endless ruin,” whispered I in awed despair,
“What foul message do you bear?”

With eyes of flame and teeth unsparing, at my gaze she stood, uncaring,
Holding up her cup, declaring, “Drink ye deep and know despair.”
From her lips the truth fell burning, words of fate and doom returning,
Cities high and empires yearning to escape her baleful snare.
“Tell me, specter, why you linger, cursed to breathe this poisoned air,”
Quoth she, laughing, “What I wear.”

“On your hand the sins of nations, blight and rot in wild libations,
Wrath and wine in equal measure, all who drink shall choke in shame.”
She laughed, each word disdaining, wild and fierce, her hand bloodstaining,
“See this mark? The world’s sustaining folly, fed upon my flame.”
“Why do you tempt us thus?” I murmured, “What’s the prize, what is the aim?”
She replied, “Your soul, my claim.”

Thus she called, her voice resounding, through the heavens, dark, astounding,
“Kings of earth shall bow before me, idols built upon the sand.
They’ll gather round my throne infernal, oaths they swear eternal, vernal,
Blinded by my beauty, carnal—blind to truth’s outstretched hand.
What they see as endless glory, find as empty, cold, and bland—
Yet still they kneel, as I have planned.”

Wicked throngs obeyed her laughter, hailed her curse in silence after,
Turned their heads to darkened pastures, fearing not her grasping wiles.
I watched them dance as shadows lengthened, all her glittering sins they strengthened,
Chains unseen that fetters lengthened, led them down her twisted aisles.
“Where will this end?” I asked, unsteady, “Where lie heaven’s final miles?”
Yet she mocked me with her smiles.

"End?” she cackled, “End’s an error, bound in mortal hope and terror—
I shall reign till man abandons every dream of life or lore.
When faith is dead and dust is creeping, I’ll be crowned, and kings are weeping,
And your God who left you sleeping shall not open heaven’s door.”
In that hour, I knew her power, darker than what came before—
And the world, forevermore.

From her lips came venom sweeter, than the honey lips of Peter,
And the saints who’d once defended, now lay drunk beside her throne.
In the streets, her wine they’re spilling, every heart with darkness filling,
Though they drank, they thirsted, willing still to drink her poison alone.
“Tell me, queen, of death ascending, why you’re left without a home?”
And she laughed, “It’s yours to own.”

Through the ash and fire falling, distant bells of sorrow calling,
Echoed like the faintest beating of a heart’s last fragile cry.
In her hand, she raised her chalice, veiled with blood and shreds of malice,
Her crown a thing of glinting phallus, stolen dreams beneath her lie.
“Does no faith or wisdom slay you?” softly, meek, I asked her why.
She just sighed, “All faith must die.”

Then, as night grew darker, drearer, through her gaze I saw it clearer,
Symbols writ in iron letters, woven in her robe’s design.
All the names of fallen empires, all the gods with quenched desires,
Scattered, dust, beneath her fires, left for us to now define.
“Why do gods and men abhor you, fearful of your bitter wine?”
She just murmured, “They are mine.”

Past the towers in silence stretching, where no voice dared speak or question,
She walked proud, alone, triumphant, ruling dark and ruling blind.
I felt in my soul her meaning, what her cruel eyes now were gleaning,
As she searched and found all teeming souls to suit her sinful mind.
“Is this kingdom all your making?” I in horror asked, confined—
She replied, “It’s humankind.”

Each head bore a crown of fire, binding men in cursed desire,
And the beasts, with fangs unbending, roared in voices sharp and dire.
Through her laughter, harshly flying, I could hear a city dying,
Yet to her, no care complying, as she perched upon her pyre.
“Will you rule here on forever?” I implored, against the mire—
Yet she burned, her dark empire.

Thus she passed, her glory fading, but her steps in ash were splaying
Marks upon a blood-drenched altar, heedless of the end that nears.
Through the dark, her footsteps tracing, silent armies slowly racing,
With her power, never pacing, for her kingdom draws and steers.
Now I know no peace shall follow, know no light will calm our fears—
As she reigns these dying years.