#171

What does an angry God look like?

Were His eyes burning with fury, His glare piercing through
not just flesh, but the very core of one's being?

Was His forehead arched in such terrible eminence
that the earth itself began to quake—
Vibrating—Shaking—Convulsing—

Were His cheeks and the corners of His eyes drawn tight?

Were His lips parted?
Did His mouth reveal the viciousness of His teeth?

Would you be afraid?

Or would His face be nothing like that?

"Oh! How could you...
make Me do this?"

Without another thought,
these were the words etched upon the face
of an angry God.

His eyes were sparkling,
there were tears dripping.

Overflowing.

But He had to keep a straight face.

There was not a single frown upon His face.

Just tears.

His face was long,
His mouth hidden behind His aching hands.

Shaking—Trembling—
Sobbing—

He was all too aware.

For in moments of anger,
a God
becomes a paradox.

He was holding back,
as much as He could,
something that could not be—

Himself.

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