The vultures circle and turn on the Judgment-northwestern-winds blowing towards hell’s open gates. Just as in vain, as the dead congregations paging through the false lie-translations of their Bibles, in the same way the church weathercock has never crowed a spiritual wake-up call, while it merely would turn will-less in all the directions of the capricious political winds.
Yes, in make-belief spiritual institutions where Satan has always just wanted to reap noble wheat, there where he himself could only sow weeds. Like a merry-go-round, in carousel color-display only turning around its own axle. So haughtiness now only circles around itself, while it completely scorns the Good Spirit of God.
Like hate now discharging itself ruthlessly in revenge between brothers, there is no turning back or turnaround anymore. Yes, just like the Vultures beginning to circle and turn in a tighter circle on the North-western judgment winds blowing strongly towards the open gates of hell.
So the fin of the deadly Great White Shark, in the once safe, but now dangerous southern Bay. Yes there where it begins to deadly turn around so many multicolored Bathers, around its prey. The Mockers are now being mocked and the Traitors are betrayed and the newborn White Child is distasteful scruffy, dirty and sticky.
The mark of the beast is offloaded onto the world-population as a microchip, without resistance, and the God-given freedom of man is completely gone. The Big Ben, yes the big, clumsy world-son, is standing still and Satan’s Caucasian sacrifice is burned on the Freemason altar.
The furious deceased spirit of Diana begins to turn to the English throne in retaliation and all this time their slaughtered Lamb was a Black Sheep, never so delicate and fine. But indeed the one who would be King of the hill. So the rich sauce becomes bitter in the mishmash salad and there is no Ruler or King that can calm or appease the anger of the people and nations anymore.
Behold, the riddle in the rhyme has already been resolved and the Pigeon and the Pied Crow land on both sides on the golden Candle, now in HOLY FLAMES. Sion stands adorned as Bride, so ethereal, so shiny and beautiful, while she turns expectantly to her Bridegroom. Yes, with the OLD OF DAYS calmly, quietly and dignified, paging through the Book of Life.