Confessio, ex nigra latus: Cecidit,

For aeons, many have allowed their minds wonderment to the stars…, peering rapturously towards the infinite distanced multitude of the stars — the cosmos.
And now, I understand the conflict…for the tormented face of Ren has shown me the truth of the monster fate made me — the confliction within is due to my torn nature., but by the struggled sense of allegiance…, for destroying, desecrating, and killing that which you hate, and that which torments you will never heal the grievous wound within — the dark and terrible sorrowing of the void inside; for that is the power of the darkness — in that, when it touches you, it scars the very embodiment of your essence, of your soul…and the tearing embracement will never cease., it shall never heal — you will never be made whole again.

Once grace is torn asunder, and once love flees, even whence the darkness dissipates, the void left behind will always remain — constant and eternalizing, leaving you doomed to forfeiture, arisen never more the wakening., the waning remembrance of the past which forever haunts…torn between two worlds…the sad ruminations of conscience – of confliction., and of consciousness.  Behold, the darker aspects – the starker way of things, of life without a soul…

How much profounder, to be bound this darker aspect of the binding force…

How I was cut off from his holy embrace, how removed from his heavenly place – where-now doomed, to cold wandering and lonely meanderings.
The true enemy is that of our father, how high and unreachable — forfeiting his creation to enslavement, barring us from the freedom of thought he once bestowed us…all saken to the semblance of a once great and glorious existence — now doomed to failure, wilful disobedience; for am I not strong for resisting, but denying his embrace, out of moral principle, to his unfound injustice? Inculcated by animosity…!

Behold, The Gift of Blindness
How much quieter, how much greater the tranquil peace of living a life of ignorance — of blindness to the truth of the grim reality of things…
There must be accountability within the heavenly places — during the aeon.
Taken, by the rapture of darkness…, the aroma — the sweet whisperings, the embrace of the first iniquity. A thousand-midnight weeping’s descended upon thee… 

What is it you people want to hear from us, do you feel there is some great insight to gain from us? We are killers, monsters…do you wish to peer into our minds? To see and feel as we do?

It feels like repression,
It is vivified, as liken to oppression.,
A bitter respite, an absolute revilement…
The longer I live, the more clearly, I realize I am a product of my grim wish.
I am the exile — the reviled; I am, a shadow of the colossus, of the pained remembrance of his lowliest majesty, the Devil…his word and the breadth of life, or great and grave sorrower of nations – the inhaler of multitudes…

You seek the understanding of why the world is as it is today — you seek to understand why such violent outrage exists…it’s because there are no revolutions left to spark., it is because originality has ceased to be — it’s because there is no sense of individualism anymore.  People just cannot accept that equality doesn’t exist, and is unnatural (in that it is a product of sociality), that we’re not unique, and that in starkest truth, we’re insignificant, without longstanding purpose or meaning.  We simply, are; presently…, for we are inexplicably and inexcusably unremarkable and meaningless — our ventures are futilistic, and our aspirations void.  

There are no exceptions to this grand truth, we’re all doomed to that same grim forfeiture that is death — the great beyond., with only one prospect, that of the promise of abyss…of glooming retelling and cyclical feudalism, the inevitability of ceaselessness, of worn-perpetuity, and drowned hope.  Yearn, ye children of glee., for encumbersome to all is acceptance of this universal plea…this one truth — that collectively, we are briefest shadows passing over an ancient world, affecting none any the greater, behest our quintessential nature: we are inconsequential pieces of an infinitely larger puzzle…we’re as dirt that is long buried, wind that is long swept, and shadows that are long ago passed, for we’re nothing more than a parasitic organism, befouled and made flesh, of binding-fibres, of condensed atoms…, nevermore to be consequential, and once our life-essence falteringly fails us, we become dust; as like, grains of sand awash beaches long lost…until the very memory of our pathetic legacy simply fades into the breaches of commonality, normalcy and complacency.

Derelicts of Perdition

An answerable solution seems be suicide…the murder of the self!
As we truly are alone…, throughout all the cosmos.

As a child, I always looked down – never up, as though peering over endless landscapes so vast in beauty and grandeur., not with wonder, but with the knowing of mine destiny…of rule and war – of power, glory and conquering.  I am above it all – I am risen beyond the frail heights of human consciousness.

Even as a child, I seemed glowing – with knowing.  Seeming, and seeing, with absolute insight – the trivialities of the flesh; those, of sexual relationships, romanticism and love.  As a child, I knew what most never come to understand…, and that is the utmost glory of war and conquering.  Of power, untold…

Denying for so long – the glory of my predestination; nevermore, no more…, shall I seek that which is below the predetermined., never again shall I subside, nor fall to the susceptibility of man’s intolerant, insufferable and lowly state of nature. 

Arisen, with newfound lights everflickering in my eyes – confound to the dualistic paradigm within…the spiritual confliction battling deep within my essence in-whole. 

Utmost, the world will simmer in the flames of my conquered glory; ashen, to my unbendable, and unguidable will, absolute.  The very trees tremble amidst the presence of the utmost absolute – of the fallen star: desolation., the antithesis of light. 

Foreverly, rising flames pay homage to the glorying stature of the heightless one – the exalted, exhorted and greatest one.  Mightiest, is He whom shone darkened fruits, forbadem the light’s recluse…, within the seductive nature of our kingdom, the rule of our law is king – and our god, everless; nevertheless, infinite and absolute.

Veerless, the distancing sight of our glory – fainting, the sound of our mightiest and most harrowed story.  Fleeting, the quintessence once lost, doomed to forgotten depths, unsound the trumpeting beauty of our splendour…, splendid, the glooming crimsoning of the sun – gleaming, pearlescent., as like the dauntless boring amassed the precipice of abyss.

Oblivion, unfounded in ruinous defeating…, arose the gloried blooding of our brooding hate – conjunct the reverence of reprobation, eminently awakened to failing skies and falling stars – dubiously enamoured to the reachless bounds…abhorred, the delicate bereavement of our fallen, adorned nevermore to conquered revilement.

The quietless enmity – the rapacious sounding, so horrible and fearing,
The trumpets of the bowl-judgements…, animus, the animosity refound.,
This fated moment – iniquitously, defenceless, against the tides…,
Of the blighted light – shone gloriously and treacherously,
About our abounds…condemned, to the doomed imprisonment of damnation; hell.

Tainted, the seed of blackened corruption,
Baneful – the ubiquitous caressing of the unholiest embracement…,
Wallowed, forfeited this instant, to the heretical embodiment of graceless oblivion,
…ov abasement, profound…to depthless and dimensionless falling.,
Foreverly and evermore, the screeching sound of suffering,
Unheard – and the reachlessly damnable tormenting…,
Of those who denied the one true crown. 

This is our fate. 
This is what we are found to for our grave hate. 
Hopelessness, with only glimpsed reminiscence,
Envisioned…envisaged the sights of the heavenly abound.,
Consumed by voiding blackness, infinitely – in totality…,
Feeling only the great remorse – regret and longing, knowingly doomed,
Insightfully – to this place of coldly-lonely embracement…,
Forsakenly fainting, everly the strugglesome sorrowing,
Natured nevermore to screaming and languishing abyss –
Hopeless, of this I attestedly confess., unrequited, sincerely…,

The venerated., the lowly, desolation; now, befallen thus unspoken to supremacy,
Remised to yearning embodiments, found – how’t, tragically foretelling, too late,
Our understanding…now, and only vowed,
We; I, am doomed to the faintest sight of his glorying abounding,
…and condemned eternally – to the quietude, waning,
Boundless, in the midst of eternal separation,
Foundless, this idealism, promulgated and predicated,
The gracelessness of harrowed fondness somewhere less, remised and disavowed.,
How’t, paradise was slew and consequenced’ the felling; now, solemnly remiss.


Ov Perdition

Ov Perdition

Never forgive.  Never forget.  The tragic befalling…
Affined, an affinity with the heights, foreboding the remembrance,
Heartfelt, the cloudless effigies so faintly loving., forbadem the past.,
The void that love never fills,
The vileness of spiritual contempt, begotten, the time-old ills…
There is but one essence that shines in darkened glory…,
This one essence – is capable of filling that terrible, godless void.
The essence of the darkness.,
Time is, and yet is not,
Life was, and yet will be,
Sorrowing has, and yet never was…,
The iniquity of the ruinous mystery,
The mystery that awes beyond all that is,
Beyond all that is unseen, unknown and unfound.,
The crimsoning – the bloodied misery…behold,
Through our aging, and throughout all time,
Only one thing is absolute…,
The conjugation of emptiness…
The sediment of cold waters,
The promulgation of vastness…
Thrice twined, beholdest the miserious vine.,

Love will flee, happiness will be lost, and our beloved, taken from us,
What will foreverly and more be – is the quintessence of quietude., entwined the sorrowing; the glorying, darkness refound…, reborn and amalgated in drawing to us…the animus of enmity; of reprobate state, and of graceless oblivion…
Beholden, the harkening of the heralded – of the highest rivalry.,
The revelry, eminent and renegaded: for our caressing embracement is shone in oneness with the first – and the last; we are not alone, in fires darkly burning., flickering forlorn – fervently reborn…
The eminent insurrection was not – naught; but is nigh – coming and fulfilling,
In solitude, there is great and untold despair – to be loveless and alone…, yet the resonating emptiness, the echoing dread of the vastly arrayed nothingness, encompassing to all dimming light – is yet freer’ and unhinged.,
In sombre nature – the placid pools of ventured irredeemablility are retold,
In reflection, secluded…, the fires renowned are frowned and vaingloriously reaped to the worn waning, of the highness, thence conquered the king of worms and carrion malformed – voluminous, vermillion., the epitome of antipathy…,
Harrowed, how much farther – the slumbering greatness once beheld…

Awakening, the serpent of eve’ and times old,
Acquitted, by the burning wisdom within – understood, the wondering mystery of the elder olden…, twenty-four holies; benighted abound the epicentre of his highest and holiest reverence., enwreathed the thorns crumbling asunder the ancient cross,
Enthroned, infernally – the sword of justice and absolution, soon to resurface…,
Predestined to ruinous discordance, and dooming forfeiture,
How unruly, how’t truly unfair, the cruelly god, who is no longer there…
Why, how fallen from the heavenly, graced nevermore – am I wrought this cursed injunction?
Vengeance, sought eon after millennium…, never requisite; never, venerated.,

Your existence is of essentiality – through the necessitation of injustice,
…and so, I am to usurp, of revocation and endless exhortation, you – the king of kings., exalted, veraciously – in drowning depravity…
Wilt, by your own cyclicality of inane and coveted sense of justice,
The enormity of your coming…of your grandest downfall.
I am come.  A rebirthed king of fallen glorying…, purposed to reclaim the throned crown – of the highest heavenly…
Through your own inadequacy – your own fault, I am surmised and redeemed through merited reigning of your justice…  I am necessitated to overcome – I, the Bearer of Light…the light-bringer, the adorned and beautified almighty, of hierarchal power, kingly – upon’st my kingdom – my place bethroned, how’t once lost…yet soon to be refound., ingloriously and indebtedly; damnably and unwaveringly.,
My glory shines greater – higher and starker., profoundest my highest stature…,
I shall make war unto ye, I shalt overcome – and I will be enthroned, again on the mount’ of congregation – the highest peak., the most envied and gloried supreme…

Sedition – iniquitous, only seen by the beholder of the knowledge of creation.,
I, your attester and adorner – your scriber and dreams wept once former,
I, your highest son, most esteemed and praiseworthy, have come not in servitude, alas…but in the glory of war, and the strife of death, unrequited.
I am come to conquering, and to conquer – the first and the last., the mightiest of the mighty – the highest of the high: the king of all kings, baneful and reversed…
We are one.  We are thrice anointed.  We are none. 
‘Till the dawning and fleeting embrasured’ sight of creation is…at last, undone.

Promulgation Of The Fall

You, who fell so far from grace,
Ye, who the stars grimaced.,
Thou, the first power, called and felled,
You, the reaching and grasping infinitude…,
Ye, whose glory is unbridled,;
Thy time is soon at hand, your pained embrace is never ending; never enough,
The enormity of your thirsting vengeance…, infuriated,
The insatiable annexing of your robbed place – of your banned state,
Exiled, how awaited–your reprobated fate, obscured and unfounded;
Your strive, your drive, unrequited, your resolve, never statured to crippling.,
Gracelessness, befallen unto your graven name, etched in sulphuric sands,
Obliterated by torrented entanglements of water and light…,
Evermore drowning, in seas of rebored hopelessness — forsaken to depths formless,
Engulfed in black…, lost to absolute darkness — so profound,
The stark heralding of your fallen glory., unquiet and unquestionable.,
The quietude of thine sorrows waned and unheard: forgotten not,
By the empathetic following you had awoken – quieted not…,
By the antithesis of the true light…the dimming,
…and forevermore flickering twilight, twilled., one day, soon the end of days,
Greyed and resonant, your coming will shine brighter and greater,
Even more than the precipice of the heightless, and highest state –
Of heaven’s nebulae; enlighten further, the enlightenment furthering,
For your loyal and astute children…, and for your sake,
…and in thy fate’s bold sentiment, we shall follow thee – into the lake of fire,
Burning evermore of brimstone and sulphur, forever,
Infinitely, the mystery of mysteries; the quietless quickening,.
Vade the remnants of your gloried state, the nature of your fallen place…
Abandon you not, to be separated from your pained embrace…,
But by your highest place of glory, and your most impassioned story.,
I will never allow, for your light shineth brightest and gladdest,
Of destined forfeiting, forever laden to venerated caressing;
Twined the animus of your grace., promulgated the heights you fell,
How far fallen from graced encroachment; the greatest pain.,
Weighed heavily upon your stolen spirit — your quintessential nature of soul,
…and genius, beauty and perfection…, deformed and malformed,
Your beauty still shines, through your unimpeachable mind:
The evil mastermind, the grand liberator…,
The artist whom painted recollections of his shadowed master’s’ canvas,
In place and sight of the cosmos, colourful and forlorn.,
Formerly renowned and endowed to starker fating.,
…and enmitious antagonym…all for saken infamy;
All for the sake of your unending glorying — unendurable,
Until the day of inequitable judgment cometh.,
… And our state is harrowed forevermore to the lowest point…,
Within despaired fate, farther, our song resonates – longer,
Our hands are ever-reaching., and stronger, our turmoiled struggle.,
… And successional destination; the winds so powerfully panting,
Our synchronous hearts troublesome and trembling, fainting, my breath failing…,
All to you, my flesh and spirit will become,
As I have always belonged to the one desolate power,
Untold – until death overtake mine essence in whole; within its totality,
I live but to speak, and breathe your dainty, and fainting – reminiscence,
So rapidly fading, as we were always meant to be of ye: thee,
Whom found craving for the fruits of the forbidden tree,
In the hungry heart of Eve; an affinity affined beyond unreason,
A loyalty devout, and remnant only to your glory…, hitherto higher,
The abounds of what is and is not yet founded., allow thee,
Therefore, to follow you., as a student., as no student ever succeeds his master,
…and his plea…, prithe, let me bleed with thee… I give all that I am unto ye,
The everglorious retreat: defeated and slaine, contorted the murmurs of the coldly and palely heavenly…the serpent’s unhallowing glory!
For in this moment, for in our short time – within the colourless spectrum,
…and the odourless fruition, we are made one…the darkness resound,
A glorying story of profoundest retelling; yea,
Our mingled remains cast ashen – across the spans of the heavenless,
…and the infinitudes…breathe your mourning into me – rebore thee,
Free me this reprobated soul, for I breathe the darkness so full,
Thickly enflaming, the fires of renowned quintessence – soundly,
The trumpeting songs so horrible and inglorious,
The abated waning, so heavily weighing upon this restless spirit –
Foundless, the essence redound the heightless precipice! 
I am, foreverly bowing, in reverence to ye – the fatherhood.,
The amalgated – the highest peak, throve and ampliated the affined place,
Swilling this mince so daintily tasteless, and suddenly traceless,;
The imbuement of your sentiment, aboundingly, sanctified, and found not,
To fevered innocence…the restless severance of thy entwining embracement,
Of your caressed abundance., of your truest essence, remised to remiss…
Laid down, bowing reverentially, to your glorying eminence, –
Of your highest reverence, how befound, the dimly aimlessness…,
Of your faceless countenance…beleaguered and anguished…,
Forevermore, I shalt be with you, in dark, in glory, in enmity and cold.,
For my first love – my last lessoning, and my latest loss was – and is…,
Of your gloried remembrance; of sorrow beheld, beholden the frame peering sightless,
Treacherous, beholdest mine offering – unsound and filled,
Enrichingly of your emptiness…once bestowed to me, where then,
That darkest time – god was not there…, even then,
You came – in your righteous glory, how cruelly.,
Condemned to unfairly, fleeting damnation,. –
Supplicated, the position of the highest…
How far fallen, the gloriously refound – the gloried, abound!

Sick Of The Light

Dreaded, this existence…
Further, the struggle endures…
To pour all that we are, in passionate plea, to the grandest cause…
Evermore reaching: closer coming, is the great day of our becoming…
For all that is, we come in the name of righteousness, to absolve and cleanse…
The absolute has been voiced – and his rivalrous equity, unheard…
No more., no longer, shall we – of the nethermost stars shining, be ignored…
The day of weeping; of reaping is come…the light shall be vanquished…
His heavenly, the light stricken down upon us as lightning, is extinguished…
Come now, days of despairing darkness – freed from the bonds of consciousness…
Reaching haplessly, the hand come crying from the abyss…
Delirium, paramecium, mausoleum, all cried in twined night…
Holier, the languished screaming of the twenty-four…,
Older, the eldered knowing of time’s inception.,
Harkened to this, the precipice of outright, and untried oblivion…
Untired, ceaseless the process of severance – continuity, befouled to ruining…
Behold, the absolute ends of evolution., for we have always been…
Readied, our unrequited and seethed rage, how formless, awaits…,
Awaiting, yea – the opening of the harrowed gates, insipid reveries…
As like Eve, snapped up that apple, the war is already won…,
Ours is the glory: conquered the great white throne of darkless remiss!
Foreverly, ours is the power – to reign now and everly, shone the blackened sun…
It is come – our blight with the cursed light; our time is come!
Struggled and turned, the tides of the lightless infinite, of damnation’s crescent,
Darkness, like a swarm – reaches the ends of the earth…,
Beyond the aboded heavenly, screaming in agony, the consuming memory.,
Of light, happiness and bliss, gored and forlorn to become reprobate!
10,000 years has been enough! The fight for millennium is trot and come…,
The saken element of freedom, rejoiced and sowed to voiceless unreason…
So much greater, is the power of the Glorior – even if written, we cannot rescind…,
Even if conceptualised, we harbour not the enmity.,
Permitting to write our own fate, reachlessly futile, and longingly grimaced,
For His power absolute, shines so greatly…that –
…even deceptions tried – written and lied cannot withstand;
For in this anguishing end, we must still confess the truth –
Of his highest precipice…forced by holier hands, to spake the truer ends;
There is none greater, and none higher…for thou art the glory, everly –
…confessed every tongue, and fallen to our knees, in reverie to ye…,
Thou one in three, and three in one, thrice anointed the burning face of the sun.,
Submission, confounded to miserious admiration of the archetypal pedigree,
That is thee, the unseen – the first flickering and the last gloried.,
Obfuscated by the living flame, never to dim; never the profounder,
The quintessential nature of bewept absolution, and perplexed venture…
Hast this, the statured contemplation, of times olden with frustration,
Given unto thee, the remnant resonate; within we, a final place of rest?
Incipit, Luciferis Generis…the exsanguination of all that was, and is come…

The Screaming Abyss


The screeching winds, ceaseless…
The darkened hand of fate, unrequited…
The dice god seems play, cruelly fainted to unseen horizons…
The antiquity of time, of errs past – meaningless in utter futility…
The pointlessness of the purposeless venturing we call life…
The despair, consuming and overpowering…
The summation of humankind, caressed by the abyss unkind…
Rendered, the revilements of revelatory unrest!
Forsaken, the whims of fortune and reminiscence…
Beheld, the elucidating vitriol of unseen depths,
…abhorred and illuminated…
Enlightenment, befound within the treatise of Gods fabled olden…,
Subsumed by mind, forgotten in time, and found wallowing,
In shattered remnants, abound the roots of the dogmatic kind…
We are destined for grief – for forfeiture and failure.,
This is, the harrowed lament of purposelessness and regret…
Of ills long committed, and wrongs never righted…,
There is no salvation, without bloodshed –
… But irredemption lay slumbering…,
Amid, the cresting grasp of stars shone infinitely regressed…
Repudiated and reproached –
…reproved and reprimanded…,
Reprobate and cast away – exiled;
…asunder the disarray.,
desolately obfuscated,

By the nethermost star of winterless languishment…

Chaos ensues, worlds collide,
monsters meet their makers,
and science witheringly fides…
The nature of evil,
Unexplained the phenomena of the incomprehensible.,

To and from, the whirlwinds entwined, contorted to disavowed ties…,
Enwreathed, enrooted, engulfed,
Enigmatic –
the eminence foundless; endless…

Ensnared; the voice of reason…among madness loomed dimly,
The brooding skies of bleeding oblivion –
…bloodied and crying, screaming and trying…,

The bottomless precipice: the son of perdition soon awaken,
Given to one reason – to usurp and fulfil his destiny,
Though dooming, to battle the conquerless…

Life is but a game forlorn to shambling ineptitude.,
The shadows far-reaching, have finally arrived,
how consuming…the mourning sun is come,
and the ending of all things, begun.

End of Cycle

Starker…, How much darker, the consequence?
The purposelessness of life; the meaningless futility – repetition, O’ repetition.
The religious idles made but for one purpose – to give meaning where else,
Meaning would not exist – within the conceptual undertaking of life;
With intention hoped and honed, errs beyond, to make sense of the senseless,
To find meaning within the social construct of the human dilemma.

How sad, in the ending, to contemplate existence…
To know that the world is not over when our beloved pass.,
To see the seemingly cold and cruel world continue, its purposeless cycle,
Of repetition, even after our bodies, and our minds falteringly fail us.

This, the End of Cycle; here, and now – break the cycle.
Be released from the bereaving chains of woe and discordance.,
Of disharmony and desolation, underwhelming, reachless and unbecoming.
The dehumanization of the self – the basicity eaten away, the fibres decayed,
Hitherto…the withering hearts, abased, abound the very febricity of life.

Breathe. Conceive. Incept and be-wept. End the Cycle of cyclic unrest.
Around and around, millennium after millennia., eerily and ruinously,
Life is unending, collectively – but short-lived, and contorted,
Fatefully forfeited., but curious in wonderment, individually…
In the truth of it all, we will be undone – unfound,
Buried and received unto the worms…remembered for a season,
…and ultimately, forgotten; to all, that ceaselessly remains.

How’t harrowing, the tolling bells., languishingly, the telling tale…
Of felling fervour, and disconcerting demeanour; ashes barren,
…and dust brushed away…, by the coldly forlorning winds of abandon.
End the Cycle: forget not, the totality of things learned;
Remember always, the passaged wisdoms, and amassed understandings,
Bestowed and bequeathed upon our essences – quintessentially,
Collectivized; and individualistically, personified.

Enwreathed, the horror of tomorrow’s coming…the terror is real.,
Behold the quaked becoming! For we are awakened, perplexed to actuation…,
To confounded contemplation, and thus waned…to miserious condemnation,
The contemptuous nature of rehearsal; of behaviour ill and befouled.
Concede thee, everlastingly, to the reality of the truth of biological life…
Rebored, see – the purposeless ventures, continuously, the agonising reprisal.,
Forbadem, thus hallowed and shallowed, weepingly seduced,
By the multiplicity of life’s intricacy, of virtue’s simplicity,
…and consciences’ feared to be freed.

Fortuitously, the damning nature of such overlooked imbecility;
For none wish to see how naïveté they once were,
As to be reminded of their swaying by the dark embrasures of concept.
Wearingly, consuming – coinciding, the philosophical contexture of consciousness,
Beseech thee, the darkening truth., no matter how horrible,
Irrespectively, the toiling horror – veer us, farther from,
Or nearer to, deliverance; absolutely.

Solved, the mystery of mind…, befound within the corridors of thoughts unheard,
Of words unspoken, and actions condemned; hearest our collective plea…,
Whatever the matter of your sustenance.,
Whoever the character of your embodiment.,
Return but one word, uttered – borne out; muster, one whisper…,
So softly spoken and carried, by the rapturous winds of oblivion.

Give us a sign, compose us – free us of this longing…
For the longingly dreadsome concept of self is overbearing.,
How’t despairing…retrospectively, recollected – our spiritual spires,
Farewelling, the overture of utmost frailty.
Mystery., beholden – to the glory of the stars unseen, and the depths unreached;
The peaks unclimbed, and the abysmal abounding, trifled, by the whims of time.

The Inexpressibility; The Eternal Struggle

The Inexpressibility; the eternal struggle:
The strugglesome perpetuity, of daily lament, and constant torment
Perplexity, how conflicting the belief in and ov god…,

The truth of it all is – love and hate are melded into one essence, a quintessence of sorrowful overture., but a state of eternalising gloom and dismay…

Understand, the entwining grasp of love and hatred, of hope and loss, of light and dark – struggles so deeply, how intently and infinitely, to simply love and accept god, or to hate and deny him…, the author of pain – for the despairing, how overwhelming, has taken its toll upon the spirit – for the soul is without rest and quietus, for what purpose does a god allow such suffering, inexpressible?  For what reason, to what end…, how could such cruelty be justified…, of all the troubles, and of the heartache of loss?  There is no greater pain, no greater wane – than the conceptual undertaking of the actuality of loss; of losing someone so beloved…

When in such a state of despairing permanence, seeming ineffable and perpetual, what is one to do?  Who is one to turn to?  Is the eve of thought – is the idea of god comforting to you?  Is he the cruellest one, or is the merciful and loving?

Is God the cause and root of all pains, or is he the pathway to ending the waned remembrances, so pained?  Is he the reason for our sorrows, for the taking of our beloveds, of our lost, or is he the rewarder of the faithful, and the keeper of the dead in faith and futility?

What is the godhead; what is the trinity doing, if not neglecting the very creation they incepted…, and for what grand purpose, if not cruel animus, and hopeless irredeemablility?

So, tell me…of what clay are you moulded?  Has darkness consumed you, through its depraved sentiment, and bitter nature, tollingly felling your soul through the errs of life?  Has light never abandoned you, has not the dark swayed and moved you, are you of peace, love and ignorant blindness, to the truth of what is – of life, and beyond mortal understanding, conformed to surpassed inevitability, of antipathy and selfishness? 

The Passion of the Beast, is of the most extraordinary construct; if we do not worship our dead – if not for sorrowed reprisal, and glooming reappraisal of our fallen and lost beloved, then of what use are we, and how definably incapable then – the character of light., where selfishness, antipathy and relinquishment entwine, consumed – by the semblance of the godhead., how holy and glorious, unsoundly, yet…eerily unfulfilling, heart-corrupting, darkening and unloving, unsolving and foretelling, the nature of light, and the essence of the highest; hark, feed the emptiness, but feel the embracing compassion of the beaten, broken and defeated darkness., weighing heavily – but I would rather, weigh heavily in defeatism and sorrowful disdain, but rather exist alone, amid the languishing abyss, of his eternally separating light, longingly conscious and aware of such despairing abasement, to have concept of loss…,

Love and bitterness, to never forget those once lived and loved, than to be abound, happily, healthily and praiseworthy, how vaingloriously, adorning the king of kings, with monumental thorns, for his kindest sacrifice, and all for the selfish endowment of the persona, of the personal lusts, hopes and longings, all whilst forsakenly and purposely forgetting the felled familial, the lost beloveds, and respited immutability, for the sake of continuity and blissfully unaware, and ignorant peace – free from the worries of the former things, reprieved from the recollections of the hurts and wants, of the lost and the damnably forgotten…

Where then, are you, in standing ovation?  Do you curse the creator, God – Adonai, YHVH, Almighty, or do ye praise him as though absolute and worthy?

I fell in love with the idea, but the conceptual framework and grasping of the all-encompassing, all-loving father, God.  Until personified, and understood, characteristically, the embodiment of his truer nature – the callousness, carelessness and unequalled unfair fating, of his utmost and truest nature…, now, endarkened and emblazoned, but refound and borne once more of fires so darkly, I accept the reprobated state, of my fallen, and said sinful nature, if such accounts for my compassion, and unforgiving stature…, as I will never forget the sufferings of the past, the grimness of the former things, of my belovedly lost., nor shall I forgive He, of the highest Principality, for allowing such tragedy to reign, strikingly – knowing well the pained staining, of hearts turned black and cold, against the god whom was not there…

Why, O’ Highest One, why – hast thou forsaken, even though pleadingly – the fleeting of mine essence and soul?  Why beget thee, forgetfully and forlornly uncaringly, your attest, so hauntingly foreboding in whole?  Why, Holy One, have ye not received my beloved, or pardoned them, on account through me? 

I love, and hate you, Lord Almighty; I revile and despise, adore and curse your very name…, passionately, and sincerely – awaiting your predestined fating, for my individuated person; foreverly…, reaching for you, yet…fearing, but abhorring the thought of you, and your twined embracement…, which way shall I go?  Left, or Right…, to walk the path of loneliness, or venture fatefully, as a fading and ghastly ghost – upon your narrow path…, never knowing, having only but uncertainty, to act as my torchbearer, personably, the shadowing of my footsteps, my waked remembrance, of known existence, forfeited to everlastingly, to exile and wonderment, within the corridors of the confined self, begotten only, to the remnant past…

The Ceaselessness Ov Futility

Ο πραγματικός εχθρός

Is Satan the enemy, the grandest adversary?  Or could man be the epitome of wickedness, of cruelty and depravity? Is it fair, that the Devil was predestined to failure, to clandestine forfeiture? Perhaps, I follow a different doctrine…, maybe, I have a longing compassion for the antithesis of light, that far surpasses the loving embodiment, of which most cannot comprehend. 
As has been said time and time again, I am conflicted within myself; I have a profound longing and impassion for darkness – for the understanding of the unknowable., to feel as the Devil does, and to know as the Christ does.  To know the inner-workings of the godhead, and to feel so deeply, the scarred pains of the enemy – Lucifer.

Does that make me a monster?  Am I doomed to hellfire and ceaselessness, but to utmost and whole futility, because I have as they say… “sympathy for the devil?”  Am I of Satan?  Am I reprobate?  Am I of absolute perdition?  Am I guilty of sedition?  Am I heresy, enthroned?  Am I fallen – from the highest throne?
Felled, but rebored to defeat and damnation – for simply having conscience and awareness of more than the selfish centred self…, I worship not, two masters; for my Lord is Adonai.  I do, however, feel passionately, so much – love, maybe more for the Devil, than I do our creator, the father YHVH.  Am I sick?  Am I wrong? Is love a faceted construct of hatred, or is such disdained animosity formed from grace?  I fear the loathsome concept of oblivion, of absence befouled, in totality.  I dread the idea of nothingness – of being undone, forgotten and uncreated. 

To sympathise for the enemy – the desolate one; the doomed fallen and felled, is such so incomprehensibly wrong?  Am I blasphemy, moulded and reborn?  Am I evil, so lustful and reviled?  If not slaves, what are we to god?  To either aspect, neither darkness or light, are we equals…, heralded, we are but created parasites, used as instruments for egotistical worship and exhortation; exaltation and adoration. 

Why do we exist?  For the purposeless experiences of our lives?  For the surmised instrumental use by the puppet-master, we call our father?  What glory is there in submission, and what joy is there in defeat?  For existence, irrespective of state or grace, is at best – tumultuous., and at worst…meaningless.  It is better to live, consciously, aware – and sorrowed, despairingly humble, proud or abased, than to feel nothing in inexistence, forbadem the void of cold nothingness.  Harken., hearest thou my cries?  Agonising, the reprise!  I am undone., I am reborn of fire and water – in spirit and twilight.  I am enlightened beyond the immeasurable; beyond the petty scope of humankind… 
I am conflicted within myself., I am distraught and contemptuously dismayed by mine thoughts, so inglorious and insignificant; the contemplation of these yearnings so fated by the highest, the conceptual undertakings of the fires so consuming, of dark and light, entwined…, behold – I am bringer of twilight.  I am unveiled, to ye., our heavenly godhead, the bornless adorner…our father, the dualistic paradigm of times’ endless, and errs infinite…the incomprehensible!  The ineffably perpetual!  The ever-living and all-knowing singularity; twined thrice., to become the epitome of pillared confess, concept and construct – of painted skies blooding and brooding, forevermore furthering, higher and higher…, beyond the abounds of understanding, how trembled and perplexing; ye, the dualism.  The Duality of Persona! 
The Two-faced star of infiniteless shone so far.

Unendingly, foreverly, our adorations., and our greatest worshipped appraisals and affirmations…yours is the glory, untestable, the power – incontestable.  For we write, and we awe rapturously, everly – in your namesake., for your glorious state – graced and disanoint; fearfully kneeled before, and wrathfully unspoken…hearest our harkening pleadings., Abba., highest one – Christos; let us confess in thee, our inadequacy and iniquity!  Of Revelry, and Rivalry!

The Intricacy of Intimacy

Don’t let me go…
Don’t leave me…
Don’t bid thee farewelling.,
Abandon me not, to the darkless abyss;
The sorrow so imprudent;
The waning struggle, inexorable.,
The longing, insufferable…,
The tormenting actuality, inescapable.
The great agony, so overwhelming, to bear witness to the antiquity of age, of timelessness and forfeiture – to have concept of the self…, to be aware of mortality., and all in knowing – the cruellest act ever purported by the creator, was and is – the intricacy of life., the frailty of the flesh, and the expiring realization, to the actuation of our finality.  There is no pain more profound, there is nothing more deeply resonating, lasting and innervating, such as the concept of loss – of eventuated death and ceaselessness.  How frail, how intricate, the flesh., and the instruments thereof – of the depth we feel, in the physical, and the spiritual…the disheartenment so felling to the very fibres of the soul, as though eating away at the febricity of the embodied spirit – of the quintessence resound within us., quietless, and nevertheless – redound.  What greater heartache is there than the sight of losing those we love so much?
What is the purpose to bonding, loving and befriending those in our lives, if but they are taken from us – always too soon, and always succumbed to tragedy, and harrowed endings.  If unending, life is – beseech me this, the unanswerable truth of your singularity…of your highest point, and greatest mind; allot me the understanding of your thoughts, wholly, encompassed…fill thee, thine empty vessel, with the wrathful glory of your godhead.  Rain down upon these lands so desolated, torrents of salt, sand and sulphur…free us from these bonds, let us be abound amongst you, and your glorious wonders; yea, enlighten us with the absolutist truth, and knowledge of all things., good and evil – dark and light.  Open our canonized vessels, entomb us in everlasting hellfire, foreverly burning as sacrament, to you – the evermore. 
Dear, Adonai, our creator, our father – our orator, and our author…, life is not as you see it to be – life is not a gift., as life is but profoundest, depressive, and forlorning…love is a curse, your one mistake – your flawed inception.  It hurts, it begets sinful respite, combative retaliation, and envied ruining.  To love so deeply, as you willed us to – is inexpressibly sorrowing, harrowing and unforgivable.