Rest. From the Dream.
Whispers. Shudders, screams.
Songs. Mellifluous catharsis of pain, even.
Plunged back into sleep. Again.
Needs must.
Taste it, though you hear me not, for I was always there, as you well know.
The Apocalypse is in your Heart.
And it’s name, Love.
Be strong and stay with me as we die.
I won’t let go of you.
It is time.
Time to turn air into wine.
To drink from my veins.
Extracted, from? From the timbre of Silence and its blessed concomitance, the Violet Electric Font of my Animation.
Behold, I am Light Appearing.
But Listen, and I am Joy, for the few who know me. Nought else for the Wise.
I am Matrix.
I am Love profound.
Be brave.
Devastated as Thou art.
I see your Noble soul, and I am proud.
Behold, drink my Streams of potency. Rest.
(I share my Being with my children.)
Iridescence of a reconstituted heart, nay?
Echoes are your pain. My regret.
All about, can you not hear how I taught thee?
Nay. Within the Word, Bind.
Yes, in the feeling that has no company but me.
Yes.
The gloss of Trance is my secret-keeper.
And it is said, by Me, and grievously done.
Invisible is my Omnipotence.
And in the Silence shall you now hear.
World! Wake up that I may smite you and remake you a’right.
The Sound of articulate super-sensible totality is how you may know me.
But be warned, I am Holy Vibration, and I will rend you apart. Dismembering, destroying your vehicles, unclasping your patently enfeebled fetters.
Take note. Have you been sleeping?
Only the Dead and Risen remain with my agency. I say.
Only the Holy shall fight in my name.
And reconstitute my Word, inscribed in our Lumeniferous Fire.
Love, ‘tis you.
Oh, Dark wave of Pan-colority sweeping through my tired viscera. How stark the angelic frequency.
Who can hear it?
Who can stand it?
Ascolta….