“Death, death it is, their horrid voices croak, as mountain rivers melt in rushing floods. Yet even as waters boil, deep within the earth armies of the Angel rise, trumpeting symphonies of the apocalypse.” PoetryEnd TimesDark PoetrySpiritual VisionApocalyptic ImageryFlood And FireIntenseverseMythic Writing Book:Stranger to the Beautiful Source: Stranger to the Beautiful