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I crush my head upon the flaming nova, setting myself ablaze,

As I drift through timeless ends and at celestial bodies gaze.

I reach and cross inside the Making, of lost hope and souls,

And see myself beyond the Golden Spear which the Universe patrols.

Consumed by fire I make the paths that stand behind Creation,

Undo myself into this conglomerate of Ash; hand of Cremation

Above me burns my flesh, my thoughts and ignites my Soul –

At last, It scribbles runes as It turns my ends to coal.

The Primal Rage then strikes the Golden Spear, now sent adrift,

And drags what’s left of me inside the cosmic clouds; A rift

Unveils before my ashtray eyes and I’m sent even further,

Where Cremation cannot follow, as Ashes still not were.

Now I stand on top of Nothingness, saved by all that burns,

By all that itches and etches the Holy Sins on my bones.

I stand alone, yet again, crawling around and beyond shadowy figures; I seem to forget how faces looked, what it meant to be human, to feel sadness and sorrow, to be lost in endless darkness, with no hand to reach out to, with no one to pull you back from the Void you casted yourself to, to burn with anger, to rip away the putrid meat off your bones to feed the never ending hunger that just keeps on growing, melting your insides and leaving you with the pain of all the dead souls that surround you, that fill everything that means darkness, that creep away from the tar every millennia and whisper soft words inside what’s long been something else but ears, and then you swiftly turn around and try to find them, to find a trace of that white vapour that has been told you be a soul, to grab it and to keep it close to your heart, heart that now bleeds embers, daily, weekly, it just keeps on pouring down those damn embers that fall onto the  Nothingness and do nothing else than just fade away, consumed again and again by the same old Dark that’s made your eyes useless now – where could the blooming flowers be now? On a field of emerald green, bathing in a sun that’s now as burned out as all the things that unravel before you, trapped in this everlasting field of simply nothing – nothing! – and it will last forever, for an eternity and so much more, until you’ll feed on bones, on your sweet memories, of those you’ve embraced, you’ve loved, you’ve killed, you’ve banished by banishing yourself. But they were of no use. What use could they have where you are now? You’ve lost the Golden Spear, your guiding light throughout the Universe, you now find dear even Cremation, and to think you had run so much from it… What would you not give now to feel once more it’s hot, boiling embrace, to feel your skin melt as it becomes one with It, to feel you are on with someone, something else? You would probably give everything you have, just that you have nothing left, only made-up spirits of the dead that long as well for your sweet embrace, but for the sweet embrace of your dead body, filled with maggots, thing that will never happen – you will never rot, never feel decay, you not ever worthy of the living, moving maggots that will feast on your weakened body. You are worthy of nothing! You have nothing to turn in for that embrace – your final wish will be that of an embrace, and not even then you’ll be granted the cold one of Death, as Death will not come to you, never, as much time as you’ll put into waiting it, you will just wait and wait until… Until nothing, you’ll wait in vain! In vain, just like the life you’ve lived and wasted… Now I end as well, and so you keep on suffering in Nothingness – you are not worthy, probably no one is, but you’ve turned some eyes.

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