The wind that flows in front of your face is the roar of the dying monster. The beast that lies at your feet is the light of the whole earth. The blood that fills the surface of the globe is the sea that surrounds the beast. They think that they see me, but I do not exist. The sun does not speak, and the moon does not weep. They look at my writings and are confused. Their eyes are blinded by the shadows of their own hearts. They see a monster. And that monster is me.
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So deep 🙄