2 Nephi 23

[Now here’s what Isaiah saw regarding Babylon (though that won’t be clear right up front):]

Post a flag on a high mountain, make friends with noblemen, and get ready to go into the gates of their palaces. I’ve lured back my loved ones, which I also call my strong ones. I’m not angry with them if they give me credit. The mountains rattle and rumble like thunder for the huge crowds I’m mustering into my armies there. They march from here and there, all over the planet, to grab up weapons and assault the nations.

Howl. Because God’s day is almost here. It will feel like the bottom has been yanked from the world. And it has.

Howl. Every hand will weaken and drop. Every heart turn to dripping wax. Pain will wrap around people like a net. Their faces will ignite. Amazing, the physical plunder and ravaging.

You thought you’ve seen anger. But you’ve been blind. He’ll rip the constellations down like old curtains. He’ll turn the sun off like a spigot. The man in the moon will shatter like a skull.

He’ll lash the world with the whip of his loathing for all their arrogance. He’ll snap their pride in two like one of the branches he’s scattered

You’ve heard of earthquakes. How about a sky-quake? The planets will fall off their shelves like dishes. Anger, anger all night. The earth will keel over like a drunkard.

The whole world will be like a mangy lamb no one wants to touch. Everyone will flee to their own living rooms and slam the door.

If you’re proud he’ll run his disgust through you like a spear. If you support evil businessmen, he’ll slice through you with his own brand of righteous slander. As for women and children, don’t even think of how he will violate them—or let them be violated. Because he’ll open the gates of his own nation to the thieves and killers that populate the night. Even money will mean nothing to them. All they’ll want is to cut and twist the knife.

Boys, girls, makes no difference. All prey.

I’m talking about Babylon here. It will envy what happened to Sodom and Gomorrah. That was a cakewalk. In the old metropolis of the eastern world you won’t even be able to pitch a tent or build a corral. Beasts will sniff their way through the kitchens and bedrooms of celebrities and toastmasters. Owls will laugh at their own wordplay, asking, “Who?”

Even beasts you thought mythical will suddenly appear, alive, mouths dripping with anticipation.

“I can’t help myself,”