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Ana Kefr
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Emago
Slava!*
“Dulcet bitterness it was, with shadows cast as pearls therefrom - the
Burial Tree,
the blessings of Illumination,” said the serpent to me.
“For, if the worth of our autonomy's the everlasting flame, it's a pleasure
to burn and to the ashes do we return. So let bleed the scourge, do this in
remembrance of me,” his sullen tongue of coals whispering secrets to the
hearth.
“The tree of wisdom bears the fruit of blasphemy, for if from ignorance
hails bliss then with enlightenment comes the abyss and hopelessness,” so said
the Ophidian One.
Bathos, my bodhi - this changes everything.
“In this immoral fable's meaning: the forbiddance to seek the path of
knowing,
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but instead obey, exalt and concede; censure the lust for liberation, prize
submission, retreat.”
The serpent recoiled in disgust and sensed the presence of the abattoir.
“Fattened for their slaughter, they ask and now receive. What they've sown
now they shall reap.”
Where the tree of knowledge stands is always Paradise.
“Hear me in my reprieval, mortal enemies of reason: embrace the way of your
ishtishhad god if your lives are but a vale of sorrow. Hear me, deceivers - the
Swastikrist's your savior, your precious prophets all pedophiles, your
afterlives populated by whores.”
So spake the serpent unto me.
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