Sons of Thunder

When the dark days passed

And the veil was pushed aside,

Two heroes emerged from behind a great Wall

To make known their names amongst mortals.

One was called The Messenger

The other called The Rock

Gabriel

And Peter

Gabriel, an arsenal of weapons to command,

Could raise up a building, or bring it to its knees

Could call down the lightning

Or slice through bone with a move of his hand

Yet in all manner he was gentle

Sorrow in his eyes

His only delight—to beat back evil's shadow

And bring solace to oppressed, broken souls.

Peter, just one weapon

Could he wield at a time

Yet Gabriel need only summon his own to the surface

To share it

If Gabriel soared over rooftops and trees

He had only to swoop and strike hands with his friend

And Peter would rise up on wings unseen

Swiftly to fly to the side of the angel

They stopped speeding trains

With one look from four eyes

Put out fires

Lifted crushing rubble

And drew out deep-sunk bullets

Without water

Or crane

Or scalpel

They worked as one being

Like synchronized watches

With golden-haired queens awaiting their return

The saint and the angel

Halo bent and wings tattered

But good in their hearts

And strength in their steps

One called the Messenger

The other, the Rock

Together they earned an old name

A name once belonging to ancient sons of Zebedee

For one could hold lightning in the palm of his hand

The other could calm a city with his voice

And so they were known as brothers

And were known amongst mortals

As the Sons of Thunder