The Seraphim

I sit in my loft, overseeing a large room, tiled with tricolored marble
And recliner chairs, and plush furniture made out of gold and silver
And velvet cushions with delicate air woven into fabric;
A glass window appears to our right, on the left side of the nexus
To my library, and the light of the Father shines into the window
With its cornflower blue haze, with a velvety purple sheen of pearlessence 
And a amber waves of grain, from the grasses roll through to a forest.
 The heavenly beings are sitting in the loft, I on the raised section, 
With a black and white marble staircase leading up to the loft, 
Where we sit, and read, and ponder in the great study.
It is a room that is three hundred fifty yards long, and one hundred yards wide;
And we stare out the window, as the seraphim in his loong like body
Flies by, and a moment of solemnity hushes us, as the Seraphim are rare
And only seen once or twice a millennia by most.
There it flies, with news to the Most High, of things of worlds
Unknown, creations upon creations, and worlds upon worlds;
The great sins in those worlds, the attacks of their wicked rulers
Their great armies and demons and the hells of those worlds.
Somewhere, there is this going on, and the Seraphim flies to give 
An answer, with its six wings, it flies like a Chinese dragon
Over the library, almost like a jet flying over a house.
We all murmur, wondering what the news is about;
And then it becomes the discussion for a few months
Which are but a nanosecond to the heavenly host.