In the torment I find the illumination that fire gave back then, the fire stolen from the heavens, the fire that warms and the fire that burns are always the same, the distance in the variation, temporal, spatial, of consciousness, of reason . I perceive it in my ears in her fluttering wings and in her stench of carrion with which her body has been soaked during all these cyclical eternities, but after them I taste the integrity of the pain. The pain of the punishment of setting the world on fire and setting the world on fire with pain was the torch that crowned the minds of man with thorns. In times where immortality was anointed with eternal suffering, I pray to the fire to reduce my body to ashes and grant the breath of life, but my existence is timeless and my essence incorruptible: I am death!
