Tired of opening my eyes again to a paradise of grey mist and blind consciousness, tired of trudging along the steep track of earthly voyage and of staggering like a drunkard through life's dark catacombs, I slowly raised my morose eyes towards the concave firmament, and dared penetrate the mysteries of heaven.
Not finding what I sought I raised my dismayed gaze higher, until I caught sight of a throne fashioned of human excrement and gold upon which, with starving pride, body swathed in a shroud made of befouled hospital sheets, sat he who calls himself the creator.
He held in his hand a corpse's decaying torso and bore it in turn from eyes to nose, from nose to mouth, which he began to devour in most terrible ways.
His feet were immersed in a vast pool of boiling blood, to whose surface two or three cautious heads would suddenly rise like tapeworms from a full chamberpot, and immediately slip back again quick as arrows; a well-applied hit on the forehead was the familiar reward for breach of rules, caused by the need to breathe in another element - for after all, these men would still breathe air. They swam between two waters in a loathsome liquid, giving their best not to drown.
And then the creator, having nothing left in his grasp, would with the first two claws of his foot seize another victim by the neck as in a vice, and raise him from the reddish substance into the air, there to be dealt with like the others. First of all he would devour head, legs, and arms, and lastly the trunk, until nothing was left.
And so on and throughout the other hours of his eternity. Sometimes he would exclaim: "I have created you, so I have the right to do with you what I will. You have done nothing against me, that I do not deny. And for my pleasure, I make you suffer."
The Almighty appeared before me adorned with his instruments of torture, in all the glorious aureole of his horror; I turned away my eyes and looked at the horizon...
He is all
Verbum Dei manet in æternum
He is of fire
In ignem aeternum
For him we will fall
Nihil contemnit esuriens
For our fragile desire
Nutrimentum spiritus
He is creation
Omne trinum perfectum
He is our will to live
Quia pulvis es
He is annihilation
Corpus vile
For him, our lives we give
Et in pulverem reverteris
He is the golden mountain
Mons Sinai
The light in our hearts
A Deo lux nostra
He is the holy fountain
Aquis submersus
The sword that ever parts
Contraria contrariis
He is salvation
O fallacem hominum spem
Into his hands, I commend thee
In manus tuas
He is envenomation
Sola fide
My destination to be free
Deo parere libertas est
Into his hands, I commend my spirit
My love for him
Omnia ad Dei gloriam
Into his hands, I commend my spirit
For he has redeemed me
My love for him
Omnia ad Dei gloriam
Into my hands I commend his spirit
His love for me
Deus est mortuus
Into my hands, I commed his spirit
For I have redeemed him
His love for me
Deus est mortuus
Omnia ad Dei gloriam
Credo, quia absurdum
Coincidentia oppositorum
Altum silentium
Worship what you've burned,
Burn what you've worshipped