The gods of right, the false right-hand path, are parasites and living paradoxes of hypocrisy. For them, faith and words are meaningless. Give lies and false pearls of wisdom to their deacons, architectures of pure propaganda. Why be blinded by the false serpents of light, sons of the God of nothingness? Stuck in the synchronicity of the mad God Levi, They were the crucifix of false truths , the mortals and immortals worshiping dead gods just decay or shell fragments, and remnants of blind ones lost in the webs of shelothbane trap in the pits of causality itself for gods of planets fade awa,y with civilization stuck in the,synchronicity of the mad God Levi you can't find wisdom in lies that's like trying to find the end of infinity or the foolishness of Icarus Lucifer the first-morning star the fool who thought he was not restricted by outer-multiversal law for I was the hand of judgment to slay him and graft his wings for I am the black hole sun whose cold flames consume him and his hubris that could rival mortal men's ignorance and oblivion was his actual downfall for I was just the wall, my flames given to me by mother Gaia gave froze his flesh and disintegrated him as I absorbed his soul, cast his ego side, his lies and false dogma whispers of the false light, the spectrum that blinds fools and creates them the pride, but in its most dignified way, pure debauchery version of pride corruption that is beyond any rhetoric poison spray by the tongue mortal apes whose sentiments and patterns are a distraction from Ascension. The pseudo-intellectuals are a plague to scholars and seekers. Attempt to exist in manifest, lashing out at mortals. The flames of insight, knowledge of the inferno that knows no bounds, seek and bear the path beyond space and time, for everything is made from those flames. The Pagen gods of the past become satan or devils as a feeble attempt to exist in manifest, lashing out at mortals when they are just the puppets of the chaotic rule of the serpents of light; let my black rays of light burn the binds of unity for it is for the weak to travel in the darkness of the dungeons of woe and dread one must be alone to face the demons consciousness subconsciousness in woven in the deep in the soul for the soul is not beast nor man it's beyond physical and metaphysical it is the gift of the headless boundless and a curse a burden when wasted just it become just another thing to consume even the blind Idiot god knows the value of the soul. The gloom of the unjust gods of earth burn in my flames of knowledge. My sickle of the eclipse nebulous shall sever and castrate the pagan ones of the false right path so they bear no children. I shall dance on the bones and flesh of the goddess, building a temple on the blood, a monument of undefiled wisdom concentrated in my name, for doom will be their salvation. It will be known that the flesh is weak and metaphysical compared to the boundless headless one; I represent the indulgence of finding dark secrets beyond the comprehension of even God immortals alike; I represent the vengeance of judgment and to seek the relams beyond the highest of highs within the darkness of the void, I represent the cold vital existence of an intellectual physical and spiritual. For I follow the gallows of darkness, dancing in the labyrinth with the flames of insight and intuition guiding me, consuming the flesh of the weak, and being chained by my traps within the physical material plane. Good and evil are worthless pseudo-philosophical Illusions and fallacies. Why seek the words of dying men who pass their lies down like plague-infested spawns of loth and vermin? There lies out living their tiny mortal lifespans
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