When the fall of America comes it's iniquity will be like the bulge of a high wall, jutting out, that all have witnessed for years, and yet pass by it as a thing which will never come, but the ruin of it will be fast and complete.
There will not be left even small pieces for the mason, pieces for which to carry fire or pieces to dip into water for a drink. The ruin will be utter and it will be complete.
America is a rebellious people who demand that the Prophet not speak nor that the Seer see. They would rather have their own lies to hide in than the Truth to save themselves and be set free.
You trust in cunning and oppression, in crookedness and being perverse. You rely on deceitful illusions.
You rely on your treasures now bankrupt. You rely on your military now broken. You wax old and wane feeble. Yet you say you will flee with speed and yet those who pursue you will be swifter than you.
Such bravery in cowardice in running away from your punishment.
One thousand of you will flee from the threat of one. The voice of one will set you at alarm.
Five of them will chase you to the mountains and there will you shine in hiding as beacons to all you are.
Isaiah warned your parents of these things, and they would not stop sinning. Their graves were their fields as they were the harvest of death. Yet the remnant of your parents survived to the Lord, and what have they given, but another generation to slaughter for your sins.
The things which would make your Grandmother blush are now the flame or your lust kindled in your throbbing genitals. She would recoil, while you thrust your hips at it all hoping to bury yourselves deeper in the inferno you are driven insane by.
One does not pine for a whore nor sorrow over a pimp. One shrugs and is pleased for the end, before moving on in silence as the taking out of garbage is not an event one enshrines.
A maggot's meal, a bone crushed for marrow to dog, mice making nests of your hair. That is the nature of America in her fall. Her beautiful people in a stench of death, earthen and acidic, as the insects, animals and plants feed upon that which they fed.
No wailing of coyote or wolf. No dirge of owl or hawk. Just the lone wind of silence, in affirmation of tree and grass, that they have witnessed this Prophecy before.
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