The infinity loses its notion of time and slowly begins to
Count again. The creator is trapped in the cyclic
Labyrinth of his own images. The renewal leads only to
Further distress and teh end comes in waves.
The unity imprisoned in seeming infinity is now motivated
Only by the urge to seek its own ego for itself. And even
The immaterial beings are condemned to this hell, like us,
Who dwell in the three-dimenional space of platonic
Solids.
A glimmering flame of countless of existences, stars and
Minds that end with a whimper. The funeral silence is
Disturbed by the bang of the single spark and all is
Consumed by flames of ekpyrosis. But if vermin is given a
Chance to glimpse what lies beyond the zenith, is it truly
Possible for a spirit devoid of shapes to abandon the shell?
Devouring the sun, darkening the world the auguring
Nought reveals "all". The microcosmic divinity expands
Beyond the veil of time towards conterminous
Dimensions.
Ominious, horrifying information that has longe since
Wasted its sense and meaning circulates the mind like
Incandescent needles when the one drowned in fire,
Permeated with radiance, deafened by the prayer seeping
From the shapeless eternity, faces the unborn.
There, where all is something yet nothing. Where the
Truth cannot be embraced. There we all shall, deprived of
Memory, stand, consumed in the glory of great metatron.