I can hardly even understand any of it though of profound importance, and complete it’s all right there before me, in excrutiating detail laboured over for millenia, distilled for my sake but I can’t see it past my tears cannot grasp it in my enfeebled mind so weary of running in circles, no longer able to tell reality from fabrication, valuable from worthless and I have one foot in the land of the living and the other in my mother’s country a mind tethered to the mechanics of the moment a heart abandoned to the whilom phantoms of a bygone race, a world depleted of the good will of the Seraphim and could I read it, would I ascend to the post of Saviour, and be welcome at the right hand of God, and thus would I avenge the fallen hosts of light seduced by the morning star could I decypher the glyphs, which I was trained to recognise, for an aeon and ten would I unseal the scrolls that unleash heaven’s wrath and cleanse the golgotha of sin but I cannot see, cannot fathom, cannot reckon the number, calculated from the words uttered by the mouth of the serpent emanating from divine will, conceived in that primal moment of separation so blind, useless, have I become that I cannot testify before the Four Creatures and be held as witness in the judgement of our disgrace oh Lord I beg, cast my soul into that lake of unquencheable fire and burn from me my weakness in that crucible of thine mercy [24 XII 2020]