The Glory of this Man
The Glory of this Man
…is in his heart, no where to be found, save elsewhere. Like a wet drop of supernal condensation. Felled to the dry ground. An arborescence, congealed thru a soft hard enduring and insistent thought. A plasma from the outer pain. Conceived by Love beyond the Northern Crown. A descendant from his own making. Fabricated from the dirt of old kingdoms.
Pur, selfless, filled to the brim with a titanic Will to be. A child dripped from the sweet odorous kiss of a bodiless maiden. Aethereal. Magic, patiently seeking to implant the grain of celestial equity within the mammal realm.
A Man made of mortal bounds, though incandescent. A brazen thing. Superb infant, daring the clouds of misbelief. A single angelic choir unto himself, winged open hearted, the eye of a Thor burgeons in his chest. He is a golden coffer breathing into dark winds.
He scares devils and spectres & the little udummu kids. The pagatu stay away ! His hair is as a brazen furnace, his awful regard summons doom to all brittle inhuman layers, that supreme being would precipitate to uselessness.
He strides the inflammable arena, where dubious creatures dissipate grudgingly into their inveterate & well earned ugliness. A royal witness to the breaking down. What un-becomes featureless. Consumed by the great illimitable nothing.
Unveiling the 5 mysterious volumes as he journeys on a strange land, he secretly bridles not without peril to his own children, the hirsute, the mean the forbidden begotten lame. Those whose polluted blood has poisoned his vital gods.
« My eyes are like whirling hurricanes in the stellar wealth of the deep. »
He takes root under the wonderful high man who plagues the riddled unnatural onslaught of miscegenation which only selfishness can inherit.
Some who are educated have called him a Mandragora.
To burst to be. To flower and fruit.
His terror will destroy the uncomely. He is at the doorway. His bright countenance carries upheaval.
We are the hanged men of the eternal Germanic god. The pivotal crux upon which the universal axis turns, now wobbling, shall extinguish, darkness.