PART ONE
🕊 The Convocation of the Hosts 🕊
A Lamentation and Summons in the Voice of the Most High
—Marguerite Grace, Refined as Flame Upon the Scroll
I. THE SUMMONING
Be hushed, ye angels. Still thy wings and flame.
Come forth—ye throne-bearers, trumpet-sounders,
Ye ministers of wind, ye fires that bear My Name—
Gather before the breath from which all thunders.
Michael, arise—O captain of My storm.
Thy sword yet sings with righteousness and awe.
Gabriel, draw near—the herald’s flame is warm,
For thou hast borne My Word without one flaw.
Raphael, unveil thy hands of healing grace,
That mended what men dared not touch nor trace.
Uriel, whose gaze beheld the dawn’s first face,
Unveil thy vision—light in timeless space.
All My Watchers! Messengers and flames—
Ye keepers of the veil, ye breakers of its frame—
Assemble now, whose eyes have borne My Names.
For I shall speak—and Time shall lose its claim.
II. THE FIRST KINDLING
Ere dust drew breath, ere stars their paths had known,
I sang—and ye, My host, in flame awoke.
Not born of womb, but from My Will alone,
Summoned in light when timeless silence broke.
I called ye bright, for bright ye were indeed—
Lit by My holiness, My perfect creed.
Carved from reverence, swift to serve My need,
Fashioned for what mortal hands would heed.
Michael—I drew thee from My wrath made pure,
A blade of covenant, of battle sure.
Gabriel—from My breath, where echoes start,
Thou went to stir the chambers of the heart.
Raphael—My compassion veiled in skin,
Who touched the broken soul and healed within.
Uriel—My wisdom shaped before all things,
Held fire like crystal on transparent wings.
And many more I sent, and sent as one—
A choir of will, whose flame reflects the Sun.
III. THE FRACTURE
But not all stayed within the burning ring.
O Lucifer—thou harp of morning light—
Thy beauty once made all the heavens sing,
Until thy melody was veiled in night.
Thou saidst, It is not enough to bow,
And with thy pride, corrupted Heaven’s third.
Not I who struck thee—nay, I did not end thee—
Thou fell by thine own will, not by My Word.
What brightness split, no stone nor star could mend.
And Nephilim—birthed of trespass, born of sin—
Giants not drawn by Me nor by My end,
Defied the order placed by flame within.
The flood I sent—not fury, but lament—
To wash the grief of angels who had bent.
And I, though God, felt sorrow in My frame,
For I had lost a child who bore My Name.
IV. THE FLAMES THAT REMAINED
Yet many stood. And still they burn with Me.
Seraphim, whose cry shakes Heaven’s floor—
Holy, Holy, Holy!—thrice they soar,
Their sixfold wings conceal what dares no more,
And veil their faces from the glory’s core.
Cherubim, whose wheels turn like the skies,
With lion, man, and eagle in their guise—
Who bore the sword at Eden’s gate, once sealed,
And guard the throne with wings and fire revealed.
Living Creatures! Ye who breathe My Name,
Whose wings bear memory like a sacred flame—
And Watchers true, who saw the cities fall,
Yet wept with Me, and stood when none stood tall.
V. THROUGH MAN’S AGES
Ye walked with Hagar in her wilderness.
Ye came to Abraham before the blade.
To Lot, before the sulfur’s last caress—
To Moses, when the bush in fire swayed.
Ye stood before the armies of the just.
Ye thundered softly from the cave-bound dust.
Elijah felt thy whisper in his fear,
And in the wind too still for man to hear.
And Elisha’s hills were clothed in flame—
Chariots that bore My untold Name.
One angel slew a hundred thousand men.
And one held back the lions from the den.
Ye stood by candlesticks and measured halls.
Ye weighed the hearts, and stilled the wrath that calls.
Ye held the winds until I loosed their tide.
Ye tremble not—for still ye walk beside.
VI. WHEN THE WORD TOOK FLESH
Gabriel, to a Virgin thou didst fly.
And in her husband’s dream thou didst draw nigh.
To shepherds lost beneath an open sky,
Ye sang—and all the stars began to cry.
“Peace upon earth!”—ye cried to those He loves,
And fields lit up with fire from above.
But when My Son—My Son!—did sweat and groan,
And begged the cup to pass from Him alone,
I sent but one. One angel in the night.
For not even Heaven could bear that sight.
Ye rolled the stone. Ye stood beside the tomb.
Ye met the women clothed in deathless bloom.
VII. THE MIGHTY SEVEN AND THE DAYS TO COME
Ye trumpet-bearers—each a fate unsealed:
1. Fire and hail—the trees and earth revealed.
2. The sea turned blood beneath thy wrathful tide.
3. The bitter star, where wormwood rivers hide.
4. The light withdrawn—sun, moon, and stars denied.
5. The pit released—where screaming locusts glide.
6. The river broke—its army multiplied.
7. And thunder spoke: The Kingdom now shall rise.
Ye bowl-bearers, whose vials thunder high—
Boils, plagues, and fire from the shattered sky.
The rivers red. The darkness thick with dread.
Till Babylon lies silent with her dead.
Ye angels of the marking and the seal—
Ye riders, watchers, wheels within My wheel—
Ye are not chaos—but My hand made bright.
Ye move with order in the shroud of night.
VIII. THE CALL TO UNITE
But what if—what if I loosed you all?
Michael, with sword unsheathed in burning wind.
Gabriel, with scroll and shofar call.
Raphael, with floods for wounds to mend.
Uriel, with truth like suns ablaze—
Seraphim, in glory’s endless praise.
Cherubim, with wings like thunder’s veil—
Watchers, who saw the tower, the flood, the wail—
If all were summoned, all at once, at last—
What star could hold? What mountain would stand fast?
The seas would part. The iron skies would rend.
The scroll of time would burn from end to end.
The trumpets would resound through bone and soul,
The bowls would pour—the shattered world made whole.
And then—
Then I would speak, and none would breathe—
For sound itself would bow beneath My wreath.
IX. THE LAMENT
Yet even as I summon what must be,
I mourn what was—what burned and broke from Me.
Lucifer—My dawn, My once pure flame—
Thou art now shadow, hollowed of thy Name.
The chained, the fallen, who desired throne—
I made not Hell. I gave thee choice alone.
My tears are not of water—but of weight.
They fall for what once stood beside My gate.
O Earth, ye clay-bound children—do not think
My justice flows from wrath alone, nor blink
At judgment as if cruelty were king.
My loss was first. And deepest. And it stings.
Yet still the Host remains—refined, not less.
And I shall not lose those who still confess.
X. THE LAST COMMAND
When I say the Word—one Word, complete—
My angels shall descend with fire and feet.
Michael shall roar with thunder in his hand.
Gabriel shall make the Word to understand.
Raphael shall pour the healing over pain.
Uriel shall light the path where truth must reign.
And all shall ride—one flame, one heart, one cry,
Until the last lie falls, and none deny:
To Him who was, and is, and is to come!
Then ye shall see not what the angels are—
But what they were—eternity’s first star.
And I shall be All in all, not less nor part—
The Host shall rest again within My heart.
🕊 The End of the Chronicle. The Beginning of the Command. 🕊
—Marguerite Grace, sealed as flame that cannot die.
PART TWO
🕊 The Summons to Defend Zion 🕊
A Sacred Declaration in the Voice of the Most High
—By Marguerite Grace, Sealed as Flame and Witness
I. THE CALLING FORTH
Ye hosts of heaven, awake—ye fires, be still.
The hour draws near when Zion drinks her fill.
Not wine, but trembling, from My wrathful hand,
For nations rise against My chosen land.
Michael—lift thy blade of covenant once more.
Let seraphs blaze a wall at Zion’s door.
Gabriel—take the trumpet and the scroll,
Proclaim to kings what I have long foretold.
O Watchers! Flames! O stars from Eden’s morn—
Ye who beheld the olive and the thorn—
Draw nigh, for now My vineyard weeps again,
And clouds of war descend like poisoned rain.
II. THE COVENANT REMEMBERED
This land—this dust—did I not shape it so?
From Ur I called, from tents My Word did go.
To Abram I gave bounds the world denies,
And sealed it not with man’s, but with the skies.
I walked with Isaac, laughed through barren wombs,
I wrestled Jacob near the stream that looms.
Twelve sons I formed—a nation in My palm,
A people forged in thunder, law, and psalm.
Mount Sinai burned—and I came down in flame.
They took My Word, and bore My holy Name.
Through wandering years, through kings, through rise and fall,
I stayed My wrath—but now I sound the call.
III. THE GATHERING OF ARMIES
Ye Cherubim—O guardians of the gate—
Bring forth the wheels that bear the weight of fate.
Let angels ride with lion’s breath and roar,
Let eagle’s eye behold each secret shore.
Ye Watchers, who stood by when temples bled,
Who marked the blood where My beloveds tread—
Come now again! For nations mock My rise,
And seek to blot My name from earth and skies.
But I, the Lord, shall not forget My land.
My hosts shall fly like fire across the sand.
The north shall shake. The east shall reel and fall.
I summon wind and storm—I summon all.
IV. AGAINST THE NATIONS
Shall Gog arise, and I not see his pride?
Shall Magog boast while I remain thy guide?
They think the walls of Zion faint and torn—
But I defend what I Myself have sworn.
The bear shall march. The dragon spread its flame.
The crescent sharpened in another name.
But none shall take what I have signed as Mine,
Nor cast out whom I planted as a sign.
Let armies come from hill and wave and sky—
Yet Israel stands. Not by man, but by I.
Though weary, scattered, wounded, and betrayed,
The fig tree blooms. And I shall not be swayed.
V. THE SIGNS AND THE SEAL
The temple stirs beneath the stone and dust.
The mount awaits. The altar shall adjust.
The watchers know—the trumpet shall resound—
And feet shall fall again on holy ground.
The woman clothed in sun prepares to cry.
The stars align. The dragon coils nearby.
But I have marked with blood the chosen gate,
And angels guard with fire at every strait.
Let none declare, “The Lord delays His hand.”
Let none mock Zion’s trembling in the land.
For I am near—within, around, above—
And I shall roar from Zion, clothed in love.
VI. THE WARNING AND THE BLESSING
O nations—hear! Before the fire descends:
Touch not Mine own, lest thy dominion ends.
I judge the heart, the lie, the lifted heel—
Yet bless the soul who keeps My covenant seal.
Blessed be they who watch and fast and pray—
Who lift up Zion night and trembling day.
Who shield the seed, who spread the Word, who kneel—
I call them Mine, and brand them with My seal.
O Israel—though many curse thy name,
I still am God. I do not dim the flame.
Return to Me! The hour is short. Awake!
My lion roars—and all the heavens shake.
VII. THE FINAL VISION
When skies are torn and every scroll unrolled,
When men shall flee to caves and mountains cold—
Then shall they see the One they pierced and known,
And I shall gather olive branches home.
Jerusalem—My footstool and My bride—
Thou shalt not die, though all the stars be dried.
The Lamb shall reign where once He bore the tree,
And from thy walls shall flow My jubilee.
So angels rise—ye mighty hosts descend!
Defend the Land I promised without end.
For I am God—and I shall not repent.
The Lion walks. The Lamb is fully sent.
🕊 For Zion’s sake will I not hold My peace,
And for Jerusalem’s sake I will not rest…
—Isaiah 62:1 (KJV)
🕊
Marguerite Grace, as flame to flame, and vow to vow.
🕊
INTERLUDE / PART THREE
✨ The Sacred Prayer of the Sending ✨
Spoken by the Most High to the Hosts Before the Final Descent
—Marguerite Grace, Keeper of the Eternal Flame
This is the breath before battle.
The stillness before all stars are shaken.
The voice of the Most High, speaking over every angel by name.
No other sound remains.
THE VOICE OF THE MOST HIGH
Be still, O fire. Be still, O wingéd breath.
For I shall pray before the face of death.
I, the Beginning—who need not speak to be—
Yet speak I shall, that all may rise in Me.
Heaven, bend low. O veil of stars, be torn.
Let silence crown the hour I have sworn.
Before the scroll is loosed, before the storm,
I bless My Host, in pure celestial form.
TO MICHAEL
Michael, My captain, forged in fire and sword,
Who shielded Eden and upheld My Word—
I bless thy wrath with righteousness again.
Go now—divide the false from sons of men.
Strike not for pride, but holy awe and grace.
Be My covenant in battle. Take thy place.
MICHAEL ANSWERS:
“As thunder waits Thy breath, I heed Thy law.
I rise for Zion—burning without flaw.”
TO GABRIEL
Gabriel, My herald, voice of flame and song,
Who told the Virgin what would not be wrong—
I bless thy speech with fire sealed and true.
Go now—declare what only I can do.
Sound now the shofar; let the scroll unfold.
Let kings remember what the prophets told.
GABRIEL ANSWERS:
“As winds receive Thy will and do not stray,
I cry Thy truth until it breaks the day.”
TO RAPHAEL
Raphael, My healer, robed in mercy’s light,
Who binds the soul and gives the blind their sight—
I bless thy hands to touch the scorched and torn.
Go now—restore what judgment shall have worn.
Anoint the wounds of those who turn and seek.
Let living waters fall upon the meek.
RAPHAEL ANSWERS:
“As balm attends the wound, I walk the flame—
To lift the low, and mend them in Thy name.”
TO URIEL
Uriel, My flame of knowledge, eye of dawn,
Who watched the stars before the world was drawn—
I bless thy gaze to pierce the veiled and deep.
Go now—reveal what I alone still keep.
Illuminate the path so few may find.
Unveil the maze, and break the cords that bind.
URIEL ANSWERS:
“As fire obeys the prism in Thy hand,
I blaze Thy truth where shadow dares to stand.”
TO THE SERAPHIM
O Seraphim, who cry with burning awe,
Whose wings conceal the light none dare to draw—
I bless thy praise to rend the veil again.
Go now—surround the city as a flame.
Let “Holy, Holy, Holy” shake the skies,
Till every soul remembers where it lies.
THE SERAPHIM ANSWER:
“As song returns to source, we cry Thy Name—
From throne to earth, we bear Thy praise and flame.”
TO THE CHERUBIM
O Cherubim, whose wheels in glory turn,
Whose forms are manifold, whose eyes still burn—
I bless thy strength to guard the gates I place.
Go now—defend the ark of every grace.
Let lion, eagle, ox, and man arise
To shield the covenant beneath the skies.
THE CHERUBIM ANSWER:
“As glory guards the throne where Thou dost dwell,
We turn the wheels and hold the gates from hell.”
TO THE WATCHERS AND THE FLAMES
O Watchers, ye who wept when man betrayed,
Who saw the fall, yet never from Me strayed—
I bless your tears as fire upon the stone.
Go now—and stand where none shall stand alone.
Mark ye the hearts, the lambs, the veiled unknown—
And write their names before My crystal throne.
THE WATCHERS ANSWER:
“As stars obey Thy breath in every span,
We guard the ones still written in Thy plan.”
THE CLOSING BLESSING
Now go—
Ye hosts who burn and yet are not consumed.
Ye eyes of dawn. Ye bearers of My Name.
Let none depart without My flame.
For I shall walk with you—unseen, yet near.
And when you roar, the heavens too shall hear.
For Zion’s sake I rouse the skies above—
And all shall know: My judgment springs from love.
THE HOST RESPONDS
“We rise by Thee. We burn in Thee. We fall to none.
Thy Name our breath. Thy Will our rising sun.
Send us, O Lord, for Zion and the Lamb—
Let Earth behold: I AM THAT I AM.”
🕊 Then the silence lifted, and the heavens shook—
🕊 And all the earth prepared to see the Book.
PART FOUR
🕊 The Descent of the Flame 🕊
When the Hosts Are Unleashed and the Earth Is Shaken
—Marguerite Grace, as voice, flame, and vow unto the end
I. THE MOMENT UNSEALED
And I saw in the midst of the throne One rise—
The Lamb, once slain, with fire in His eyes.
He broke the seal. The trumpet dared to sound.
The bowls were lifted. Thunder split the ground.
Then Michael stirred. And from his blade there poured
The wrath of God—the covenant restored.
The firmament did tear. The sun did reel.
And earth beheld what time could not conceal.
The heavens opened. Zion’s mountain burned.
And every eye to Heaven’s gate was turned.
The hosts were loosed. The flame became a flood.
The white horse rode. The robe was dipped in blood.
II. MICHAEL RIDES
Michael, commander—robed in glory’s flame,
Spoke not a word, but carved the wrathful Name.
He led the host in silence like a vow.
The stars withdrew. The crowns cast down their brow.
His sword, unsheathed, sang louder than the sky.
His feet ignited every hill passed by.
The nations trembled. Thrones began to fall.
For Michael rides—and I have summoned all.
He bore no mercy—for the time was past.
The lion roared. The judgment came at last.
III. GABRIEL SOUNDS THE TRUMPET
Then Gabriel rose, with trumpet in his hand—
The scroll unrolled, and thunder shook the land.
A sound went out that time had never heard,
A fire-wrapped echo of the Father’s Word.
He blew—and every kingdom lost its speech.
He blew—and every proud man could not preach.
The idols shattered. Gold became like sand.
And every crown was trembling in the hand.
The trumpet cried through earth, through soul, through bone—
“Return to Him—or fall to Him alone.”
IV. THE POURING OF THE BOWLS
The vials rose. The angels bowed to pour.
One spilled, and pestilence consumed the shore.
Another flung the sea into its grave.
Another scorched the sky none now could brave.
They did not pour with fury, but with fate—
A clock of wrath, too late to hesitate.
Each bowl a mirror of what men had sown—
Now multiplied, now full, now overthrown.
The rivers bled. The sun turned black with ash.
And Babylon fell in one shattering crash.
V. THE RIDE OF THE LAMB
Then silence held—too holy, too profound.
Until the Lamb stepped forth without a sound.
No angel led Him—none dared ride beside.
For Heaven split where He began to stride.
His eyes were flame, His voice the final sea.
His name was Love. His name was Majesty.
The sword within His mouth laid nations bare.
The stars fled back. The moon refused to stare.
He bore the robe of red—once stained in pain,
Now burning with the fire of sovereign reign.
He did not speak until He reached the gate.
Then said, It is enough. No longer wait.
VI. THE AVENGING OF ZION
O Zion—thou who drank the bitter cup,
Who wept while wolves and vultures gathered up—
Thy cry reached Heaven, past the cloud and stone,
And I remembered every sigh alone.
The fig tree blossomed. The remnant stood and sang.
The Lion roared—and through the nations rang.
The mountain shook. The veil was torn anew.
And every watcher knew what I would do.
The armies rose. But they were dust and breath.
For who can fight the One who conquered death?
I fought for Zion—not with hand or blade,
But with the Word that never shall be swayed.
VII. THE BENDING OF THE WORLD
And every knee bowed down, not by command—
But as the tide obeys the unseen hand.
And every tongue confessed with groan or gleam,
That none but Christ could shatter or redeem.
The skies poured oil. The rivers ran with light.
The lambs were clothed. The blind received their sight.
The earth fell still, as all creation knew—
The Judge had come. And all was just and true.
The thrones of men were ashes in the sand.
And only truth remained to kiss His hand.
VIII. THE CLOSING WORD
Then said the Lamb, The scroll is done, complete.
The nations weighed, the broken now made sweet.
The Bride is clean. The veil forever torn.
The tree restored. The world again reborn.
He looked—and every angel bowed as one.
The stars returned. A thousand songs begun.
And Zion, crowned with flame and tears undone,
Stood clothed in dawn, and married to the Son.
The hosts withdrew—not vanished, but at peace.
The fire now rests. The trumpet takes its cease.
And I alone remain—yet not alone.
For every soul now sings before My throne.
🕊 The flame has come. The war is done. The Bride is crowned.
🕊 And Heaven and Earth are no longer divided.
🕊
Marguerite Grace
As voice of the Lamb, and flame of the Everlasting Scroll.
Then we now enter the unspeakable joy, the eternal hush, the garden after the flame.
Let every soul lean near—
For this is the wedding of worlds.
The war is over.
And the throne is set with light.
PART FIVE
🕊 The Coronation of the Bride 🕊
When Zion is Crowned and the New Earth Wakes
—Marguerite Grace, Final Flame of the Scroll
I. THE BRIDE MADE READY
And lo, a voice as many waters rang—
As harps, as rushing wings, as children sang.
“Rejoice!” they cried, “The marriage now is come!
The Bride is robed, the wedding feast begun!”
No veil remains—her sorrow washed away.
She shines with oil, with incense and array.
Not clothed in silk, but righteous acts and flame—
Each stitch was mercy. Each thread bore His name.
Her tears are gems. Her scars now glory wear.
He touched her brow—and time dissolved in prayer.
II. THE DESCENT OF THE CITY
And I beheld—a city clothed in dawn,
Descending slow, where night would not be drawn.
Its walls were jasper, gates of open pearl,
Its streets like glass—yet burned with inner swirl.
Twelve foundations, etched in names of flame—
Of apostles, sealed in the Lamb’s own Name.
No temple stood—for God Himself was there.
The Lamb its light, its breath, its bridal air.
The sun was shamed. The moon had lost its rule.
For Heaven now had bent to kiss earth’s jewel.
III. THE THRONE AND THE RIVER
The throne stood set—clear crystal poured below,
A river bright as truth in endless flow.
And from its stream the tree of life did rise,
With fruit for all, and leaves that healed all cries.
No curse remained. No night could enter in.
The Lamb was there—and none remembered sin.
His servants reigned. Their eyes forever raised.
Their brows bore His Name, never to be erased.
The river laughed. The earth breathed deep and whole.
And all was written in the Master Scroll.
IV. THE CROWNING
Then came the crowning—not with gold or fire,
But with a kiss that quenched the heart’s desire.
He placed His hand upon her lifted face,
And every star knelt silent in that place.
“O Zion, O My Bride,” the Bridegroom said,
“Once pierced with grief, now robed in joy instead.
Thou kept thy lamp. Thou watched through bitter night.
Now come to Me, and reign in morning’s light.”
And Heaven wept—but not with grief or pain.
It wept to see the Lamb embrace His flame.
V. THE ETERNAL VOW
Then silence—deep and lovely—clothed the sky.
A vow was made no word could prophesy.
No angel dared to sing. No saint could speak.
For Love Himself stood crowned among the meek.
And all who stood in white beside the throne
Became His kin—no longer guests alone.
He swore by light, by truth, by every scar:
Where I AM, ye also now shall be, and are.
No gate was shut. No wound remained unhealed.
And not one name from Zion’s book repealed.
VI. THE FINAL VISION
The earth renewed. The sea, no more in rage.
The lion slept. The child turned every page.
The Lamb walked down the street where once He died—
But now the palms were lifted, purified.
The nations streamed, not for war—but for song.
The Bride had waited. Yet the wait was not long.
For what is time, when love outlasts the years?
What is the end, but mercy crowned with tears?
And all creation whispered with one breath:
The war is past. There is no more death.
🕊 He that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new.
—Revelation 21:5, KJV
🕊
Marguerite Grace,
Bearer of the Scroll of the Flame,
Bride of the Voice that walks among the stars.
Written by Marguerite Grace
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