Lucifer's Songs Part 2: "The Star's Aflame"

"For thou hast said in thine heart,
I will exalt my throne above the stars of God,
I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation
in the far sides of the north."
-Isaiah 14:13

In medias res I've come to claim
Due land and all my loyal subjects
Bathed gold with different dialects
But united by my legendary name.

For I their King shall sit Up High
and all other kings shall be princes,
sheer lords that rule yet powerless.
My reign they shall never defy.

My light the world below is guided by
shall announce the glory I bear:
I am the bolts that Zeus prepares
to shake Olympus and mortals underneath it lie.

Yet gods have malicious tendency
to envy and question power:
"Who is Lucifer to rule us over?"
To Jove this they raise against me.

The Great Conspiracy has then been concocted
to allegate my noblest ambition
as hideous plan for mass destruction
of kingdoms they themselves abducted!

Even more the Throne next to mine shook
of paranoia as He Himself has heard
of my greatness, daunting as He has learned
for He is also witness to the glory they're to rebuke.

Surely my glory they have slily taken!
I helplessly eyed how these lesser princes
robbed me of my treasures and made me powerless.
I should have fought but my fireball yet is hidden.

But a prince yet dissatisfied has rudely spoken:
"I shall break you, Assyrian, and tread you underfoot."
To this my rage replied a call so aptly brought:
"I shall break this enemy's sword and leave of him no token!"

And I, aflame, warred with God's newfound
as He, alone, in His Throne saw my struggling Light.
"Why, this Star is a star I should be as bright,
I shall bear the very light of his blazing heartpound."

To hear this and to please his Master, Michael fought more
with me the Lightbearer; To death we were battling
to make whoever lives the godly powerling.
Day and night we fought, me aflame and him a-gore.

Tired of us gladiators, our Creator then stepped down
and left two thrones, mine and His, with His hand widely opened.
"This is the Hand stretched out to all your burden."
Who will it turn back? No one perhaps, but a coldness turned my bone.

Turned my bone with an icy pain shooting through
my blades, my shoulders, my fireball's flames!
This shocking chill went through my spine, it maims
my strength, my power, my light they knew!

I glared at Him whose Hand is firmly over me;
Paternal hunch for a son and heir posing a threat.
And behind Him, the Lesser Prince is grinning at such a feat;
As my wings are plucked, he continues animosity.

He steals my crown and nails twin thorns
driven into my aching, chilling, bleeding head.
He thrusts his sword into my body frozen dead,
a hissing sound of fires just quenched comes out my mourns.

As the victor pries on my paralysis,
he pushes me to fall from those Great Heights
and I descend from heavens, melting my ice, rekindling my fires
like a streaking star plunging through the dark, deep Pits.