As a lover says I will return
Just before the extended loss of stay
Be it echoed over mountains past
Or etched in stillness contemplation
The tongue in all of its self-proclaimed wisdom
Finds no words less, no more deserving
Then the faithful say
And cry on high
Saying Maranatha – Maybe today

TBC

┈┏━╮╭━┈   ╭━-━-━-━╮
┈┃┏┗┛┓ ┃╭ⓞⓘⓝⓚ┃
┈╰┓▋▋┏╯╯╰━-━--━━╯

the data-driven non-culture
awakens us to the fact
that we are your enemy
to laugh and leap for joy
when the matrix implodes
under the sheer weight
of your soul-dead techno-hubris
which it must and will
sooner than you think.

Hell awaits you
and all your type
unless perhaps God
in His sovereign mercy
grant you repentance
unto life...

but that is up
to Him
so until then
take your data-driven global pipe-dream
and go to HELL.