Through the fields of scars and wounds
Shining with dim light of non-existence

What tranquility! What sweet peace! What inward serenity!
What supreme felicity and earnest of bliss!
To reach beyond the web of spiritual deceit
That mankind has been weaving for millennia
And face the most horrible truth of all

Every single dream shattered, trampled and lost
Every single word silenced for ever, and evermore

Descent, regress into prime, hideous, beautiful nothingness

The Gardens withered and the Colossus perished
Embraced by the luscious winds of stagnation
As a monument of the silent gospel
From a rotting foetus inside the womb of Gaia

Risen by the hand of man
Turning the pages of history
Purifying, channeling the essence
Of a conscious, erected mud

Our almighty new god
Turning man back into mud*

* with respect for Puissance