(...)

The Ainur gathered in a choir,

each a master of a Sound,

some sang deeper, some did higher,

to the Choice of Music Bound.

For they uttered their Music,

the Symphony of Life in Colour.

they Filled the Void with Cubic

expressions of an inner Lore.

The Emptiness ceased to be devoid.

Now it was alive and emanating,

echoing fractals unveiling in Astroids,

Sacred Geometry Circles creating.

The Glory of their Song was Hailing

before Eru, their Father of the Form.

Never after was heard such a captivating

story to be told; yet, it's worth the waiting.

For in aeons, Second Music would be born.

There was the Ainur Melkor,

who was the mightiest in Elohim potential

among his kindred, yet his core

was lured to try a forbidden sequential.

He brought discord to the Piece of Art.

Lower in pitch, deeper yet a noise,

distorting with delays of seconds, a warp,

a vortex birthing diabolic choice.

"Zacheem ya zdhuu zvonkaa...", unnerved,

as a cave's reverberation, but of a drill,

it got prolonged, then brisk, then curved,

unrealistic, sad, or even equal to Eru's Will;

Confused in blasphemous infernal chaos,

seemingly Melkor's dualism balanced the shape.

The lesser deemed righteous his cause,

yet it was a mere lesson, lest a mortal grave.

For all would lead to the Creator,

the Father that Holds Forever the Flame;

all surveilled by the Immortal Reaper

of the Law so Strict ~ in the Hall of Pain.

Glorious souls fell shamelessly from the sky,

their birthright of life and choice did not endure

the trial of Mercy's initiation against the lie

of scenery's costumes, filled with mere lures.

Sad but true. Deus Ex Machina

comes at the End of Time to lift the decor.

"you reap what you sow" and nostalgia

is what's left when the Law opens its Door.

(...)