Xaphan's Gone

Xaphan's gone; he'll no longer fan the flames, or blight the verdant lands
As he transcends to Earth with its poisoned seas and creeping desert sands
Perhaps one day he'll find those open minds, for nothing's clearly focused
His prophecies realised, of plague and hate and swarms of flying locusts
As silence falls, time unfurls, for it's held together with broken stitches
Nothing's forever, not faith or poets, science, or even wizened witches
'tis naught to fear though, for what will be, will always come to pass
Salvation was never any kind of option, for the ceiling's made of glass
God went first and now Xaphan's gone and it's your time to bid farewell
Or mock his failings, but you'll not send him back to a flaming pit of Hell
Now he'll await his fate, amongst the shires, afar from the plastic oceans
Eventide is where he'll dwell, with wicked witches, drinking magic potions