The Nearing Poem by Anthony Joseph Erangey

Who is that new warrior come to the fray?
His demeanor inexperienced, ill equipped, unprepared.
He stands with the famed general of light.
The conqueror of all chaos and darkness.
Seems out of place, a script gone awry.

This warrior has only sword and shield,
Surely, he cannot enter this foretold war..
The darkness grows and howls above him.
Attempting to instill a death knell of fear.
He looks the weakest, though none with him worry.

Malevolence strikes an earth splitting blow.
Causing an ocean wide cauldron, a lava inferno.
Pulsating lightning flashes from within the darkest cloud.
Intolerable winds strip the seas and land of form.
There is no illusion regarding this first sword drawn.

The battalions of light, steel themselves on the viewing hill.
Prepared, and willful to sacrifice everything.
They have always known this time would come.
There is only definition of purpose now.
Even the lowly warrior is committed to stay.

This will be no easy battle like those of yore,
where superior tactics and weaponry ruled.
The spoils here are not land or gold, or things of man.
The earth itself is but a bystander, a theater pre-chosen.
All of space and time are witness here.

Blow after blow pungent with hate, violent with fear,
Cascades the pitch, encompassing all.
Then the multi pronged visage of evil, towering, appears.
Michael readies his troops and calls forth the command to engage.
The horror, inhuman, unearthly, otherworldly web of battle spun.

But what of poor warrior, standing his ground, down on one knee.
With onslaughts from darkest minions clawing at him from asunder.
Amazingly he wavers not as he merges headlong into battle.
'My sword is Love and my shield is Peace'
his words echoing through the thunder.

How will this epic of sagas end?
I cannot say nor may any earthly man.
For we are now in the Nearing, as it will become known.
That is the name given me in a vision.
The time, alas, is soon my friend. Tis the' Nearing'