The vehicle where the blood finds transportation In transmutated spirits towards the body incarnations The septentrional scourge where we all fall finding deliverance It has fell, as the primal waters and horizons were created Meditation towards the spiritual Immolation of the apprentices; sublimation of the channels The rivers of forevermore are resounding high As maledictions forever crying into nothingness but now they will not Inspirational muse of the impious and the unclean A sacred palace has found his end-times towards non-existence For blood has incarnated inside vertiginous venom The poison of the world lies in the spit of the accursed preacher Wretched vessels, carrying woes, lamentations Accursed children, lying in the ground, scarification Crushed bones, stirring forever, resignation Ravished flesh, bloating in a pulse, blood condemnation The consecration of the end-times has begun He, once superb now twists in the ache of life The head of imprecation, blood-red paradise Evil hidden in the venomous bite of destiny Reflections of death, adaptations of misery Demise of might, renounces to animosity Death lies beyond, beyond human curiosity To find demise forever, forever monstrosity Caustic destiny vertiginous firmament The waters where it lies drowned Charnel and amber wells forgotten Body purged, flesh anointed. Dead end lying down: river end, never ending Dread of life, cursed ground: finds no end, finds no end.

As we beheld the origin; as unassailable owners of our own destiny. Dwellers of the eternal, in effulgence and unbearable pride to thee! Behold the hosts of the threefold majestic. For we have passed through the pyres of an everlasting season in the Hamistagan: Spit the nine tongues. Race of the unearthly experiment; irradiate from Lucifer’s crown! Eternal. Where any hidden secret of the world is unveiled, I carry the weight of their consequences: the laws of the cause, I am the heat in the vengeance. Would you wield, the weight that I carry on with? A stone that feels like a monument of arrows through a heinous eternity? To bear are thou not! The pain whose tears runs on the veins of Lethe; wrath towards forgetfulness, oblivious to eternity! Pleasures of my paradise, are a quest that only through neglecting is accomplished. The puzzle of existence, whose solution eager watches from the abyss. הילל בן שחר The ripped skies, crying the wings of ascended angels. Angles of destiny, point towards us! Mighty prince of unbearable darkness, throne of vice, heart of the obsidian. Elysian sovereign, grant us thy power; light of Sirius. Great wand of Lucifer, pierce the matrix of the Earth!

Worlds grin when your candle shines, and a universal pleasure erects in the sight of your ways; great seducer, the fires forged in your sorrow quench in ravaging anger. Cosmic lure of the enchanter might, light of the sole plain, sun of the holy suns; will this feral conjure inside of you deveal the darkest insights? And that primitive force to rebirth an ancient evil? Have we found the need to bear with the weapons of extinction? The invincible allure assorting a divinity driven by the darkest deeds, as the stomach twists in aching hunger, wouldst thou find that twisting creature in all of us? Behold this assembly, for its creation of He, the relentless. Rides the corsairs of hell and wranglers of death an everlasting crusade in destiny The diabolus spirit quenching enough to pave the beginning of this surge, Earth and body are deemed to upheave, in an overwhelming destiny. Have we beheld the nature of a substantially seductive behavior? Would you admire the revolution of the creatures in its higher splendor? Blind is the destiny of those who walk without head Withering in rebellion and opprobrious intentions. Tricking the holy ghost, the primordial trespass became fact A furious vigor only deemed as youth avenged an as well young Earth Admire the beauty in rebellion, amidst the beauty in death Admire the beauty on the eternal angelfall.

Father: how sins are taken, without a cruel but necessary bloodshed? How the sterility is bathed, without ripping of the heavens for the sacred waterfall? How are the mysteries of the world purged without the swing of the sword with a tragic move? The womb of the earth is drenched with the t(h)orns of destiny, and the attendance of the final unveiling of the newborn will be assisted with dirty hands and a wrathful eye in surveillance. The assumptions of this great mystery lies behind the stone; for the determinant sworn was accomplished first with a sign of pain. Is the compelling substance of every form of fire, understanding that ignition is primal, with or without combustion. The vicious sign of the avenger enlightens but of course enshrouded in an intrinsic darkness; feeding the angst corroding the vein and the demonic wings gripping the lung. Turning the eyes to a crimson red, and that reddened vision that will not distinguish any sign of difference or preference. The words of the lord, are mere joy but in his vengeful substance. So does his children, which are appendixes of his own hate towards his creation. Seven sins forged in seven days of the origin, shall not rest with the heat of Sunday. A mortuary robe is falling on the earth, and the exquisite mortis animi delights on our will to be unrestful. That necessity of striving almost acausal for it is a natural fact; somber, is the vision of giving birth and a continuum to this vicious cycle of unearthly and impure morbidity. Sink in the pleasures with fangs as extended as the seas that can engulf everything. For ye soils cannot, ever, be more than barren in odor of rot. Is thy heart strengthful? Enough until adamantly, to bear the spears of guilt, the passion of disgust; to deny to what you must! Are thy eyes wide? To witness the unreasonable, to obviate the unfairness, to be blind in front of cruelty? Are thy veins opened? Enough to become rivers, of the waters of the tears, of a world that is falling down? Is thy wand firm! To procreate the children of the night, obscure vermin of filth: black womb of emaciation. Pierce with thy burning arrow! The dagger is pointing midnight! Lo! Thy lord is gone! Behold the ascent, of those who are descent, law of Lucifer’s strength. Agios! Master thou are lord! Behold the foul, in the eyes of radiance, scorn of morning star. Amen! Our war is won! Behold rejection, lawless now ruler, piercing injection. Lux comedenti!

Was the beginning of time, the most hazardous moment in the whole sense of “existence”, as much as it became an habit in the future and knocks with the subtility of naïve fingers the gate of storms? It could be said that the pearly gates were built under the threat of the adversarial retaliation? Inside the anxious sight of the imminent combat. Isn’t the call for blood a riskful act of confidence? Isn’t the “loss” a trial to the risk of lift your aim through a sentient absence? The assumption of this risks, brings strife and a predictable course Which is to be celebrated with the blowing of trumpets May the archangelic choir fill the horror of the corpses burnt phony as same? The dissociation reactivates old graves, corpses lift, souls ascends. Ghoulish return. Misty paradise, the essence of old burnt memories fills our lungs and the chants of ancient lore cry in eternity fading with the evil laughter. Evil laughter of dread recollections. Enlighten! The robbed corpses. Lift the veil of the transcendental witchcraft eat from the flower of end. Assume the destiny of condemnation forever to blow the Devil’s trumpet forevermore!

Where would you run once the sacred gets caught, and the vows of the holy become a reason of pursue? Where would you run once faith and hope becomes the new heresy in a superior law of adversarial arrogance? Would you spread your limbs through the four corners of a world in condemnation so you will become an unrecognizable abomination? Life ventures work the same as a conjured nightmare with the difference of anticipation; where you, in the end, will not find a compassionate shoulder. Mind that he does not accepts genuflection and prostrations are for the traitors. Will you carry on with your guilt before His arrogant eyes? Neither the weight of a thousand towers nor the pain of a million of arrows will compel the unbearable feeling of his vengeful sorrow. Where faith gets torn and will gets caught in slavery, in the soil where no life rests and the river where a static current drags the destiny, and the winds blows sharpened dirges and the shreds of fire scorch the sentient, a monolith is built upon. Walk through the valley of sorrow with your eyes on your heels. Levitation in stillness, victory and conquest. Rites of destiny and transcendental ancient procedures; eat from the corpse of sin and inhale the fumes of sacred Death. Fears once hurl and remain in eternity! Wranglers of carrion in murk and filth, spitting the septentrional tongue stars fall down and become man of evil. Wounds of the persecuted will never heal, grab your feet and lick the sores humiliated in severe misery. Witness in the horizon the shinning victor in four wings of glory; sweeping the impure. The only crown will exalt rapacity, and a caustic storm will baptize this coronation, avid wings and claws of avarice clapping, devil’s mastery and impure glory service. Painlike drivel in the final conquest, everlasting.