Thunder rolls off the mountains like a mob huge and noisy-- Thunder of kingdoms in an uproar, nations assembling for war. GOD-of-the-Angel-Armies is calling his army into battle formation.
They come from far-off countries, they pour in across the horizon. It's GOD on the move with the weapons of his wrath, ready to destroy the whole country.
The stars in the sky, the great parade of constellations, will be nothing but black holes. The sun will come up as a black disk, and the moon a blank nothing.
I'll put a full stop to the evil on earth, terminate the dark acts of the wicked. I'll gag all braggarts and boasters--not a peep anymore from them-- and trip strutting tyrants, leave them flat on their faces.
And yes, I'll even make the sky shake, and the earth quake to its roots Under the wrath of GOD-of-the-Angel-Armies, the Judgment Day of his raging anger.
And Babylon, most glorious of all kingdoms, the pride and joy of Chaldeans, Will end up smoking and stinking like Sodom, and, yes, like Gomorrah, when God had finished with them.
No one will live there anymore, generation after generation a ghost town. Not even Bedouins will pitch tents there. Shepherds will give it a wide berth.
But strange and wild animals will like it just fine, filling the vacant houses with eerie night sounds. Skunks will make it their home, and unspeakable night hags will haunt it.