Ron Koppelberger
The Innocence of Angels
The tumbling systematic purge of truth found the disinterested compromise of deranged reason. Old Nick was reposing in colors of uncouth endurance, wonders of stone and wastrel ash black. He listened as the angel refined his measure of abrading business. The fervor of the angel was notable to Nick. Must be a fresh one he thought as the angel ministered to him. In retrospect he supposed the angel had been weighted with the burden of a gamboled innocence. Old Nick was uncertain of the lords sudden interest in his station, yet being bereft of reason he felt that his time was nearly at hand. The angel had expressed the beholden boundaries of a turn. “Accept God!” he had spoken in harmonies of gold. Old nick being bereft of reason laughed as he schemed his earthly assault. The innocence of angels he thought.
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