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That which from chaos surfaced |
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in chaos shall eventually drown |
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buried in the same restless womb |
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from whence it once crept out |
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Be it the most majestic mountain |
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or a leaf floating down a creek |
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both equally pulverized in naught |
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under the merciless cosmic feet |
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Prayers are but waste of breath |
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they fade into the roaring storm |
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and even if they reached a god |
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not one could match this force |
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As Nothing consumes Everything |
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the glasshouse of creation shall shatter and fall |
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Like Lamia lurking by the cradle |
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the Mother has nurtured Her child |
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and as the hor of filicide is at hand |
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She acts without a tear or a smile |
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Accept the nature of the process |
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its monumentum can never cease |
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bend your knee, bow down your head |
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give praise to this grand release |
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As Nothing consumes Everything |
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the weeds of existence spring up no more |
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From dream to reality |
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from frail to perfection |
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from extant to noumenal |
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from one and one to none |
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As Nothing consumes Everything |
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no matter how sacred, all life must end |
