(He)I’ll free Buchenwald and Belsen eventually
Or maybe (I)He’ll lie here
Morose as the faces on Mount Rushmore        
For the first time I(He) recognized a universal neural network
A reserved self programming, algorithmic logic to all things
(I)He grinned, an intelligent uniqueness programmed
An open circuit on a yin line
Nothing is true, everything is permissible
A Closed circuit on a yang line
I(He) re-enters the cafeteria naked and hungry
(I’m)He’s closing in on the Illuminati
I Ching hexagram closes on a yang line

We vanish one by one, until we are gone
nothing but silent screams
Echoing down the empty halls of eternity

Displaced by flora or covered in colossal snowdrifts
Dilapidated buildings
haunted
By the
silhouettes of ghastly midnights past

Ashes where we had once stood before God as man
screamingly sentient
made of rotten creation
Our life the echo of a shrieking moan

Let us Leave the pallid stars behind with a mad laughter
Reach out, touch the abyss
God and man are dead ! Rejoice!
What a joyous revolt!
Divine notes from blasphemous flutes conduct a symphony from beyond time
Dive headfirst into the deep black rift
And become eternity