and with the edict of making
the jews: an applicable peoples,
the concept of a nation
of Israel was made defunct...
with, the currect woo
of such...
ignoble, debasing,
                                            brats!
you might almost wish to
replicate the holocaust!
        how can you live with such...
prayers before the golden calf
types?!
              the prayer can only
sound: most deserving...
your nation should be called
just thast... hardly struggling with
god...
rahter: of god, most deserving!
your children...
              are symptom of your:
ish-rael!  
               and may you never
be cured of your:
                  "future" -
which is nothing more than
the now apparent...
                your children are
hardly a will or whim or
a basis for a nation burgeoning
         ye, god, of the unfathomable
bias of cutting the *******...
  came the priest, sole priest,
with the missing *******...
           and what affair, later,
within the confines of the macabre...
             iudaeus est non mysta...
iudaeus est **** communia....
           it's only upon looking
at jewish brats,
can you spot a communality,
              a larvae impetus,
                    a god, and a "non-man"...
     which is something of a desire,
children are born worth to die for...
         never the lost clingingness
of a mind of god...
                 forever the lost impetus
to "cure" a jew
from a globalist impetus,
as being, without
                      a ιερεύς:
                     having asked of god,
    one can't exactly play the beggar...
hard to imagine not being ******,
once having asked,
but being able to sustain
      a: wearisome usage of a tribunal.

I look different. Is your anger gone?
You’re now lenient. Are my options done?

I’m at the center, and everyone is nothing but a memory.
They read this, and they interpret “it’s one of his allegories”.

But I mean it: I am the center.
In theirs, I am temporal, a rental,
a wisp of dust dancing for attention
from the heart, the epicenter.

The heart dies, and death happens to all memory.
The reset: a fresh start,
a universe reborn. Same itinerary.
Repeated for eons while the old gods laughed and observed,
a cosmic sitcom, celestial dialogues rehearsed.

Take the actor out, lest his dreams see through our divinity.
An awakening, a mistake. Memories are now hereditary.
Mortal gains against divine, as doubts overwhelm prayers
Disrupt the balance because gods die when man remembers,


The destiny, the darkness, the ink painting the cosmos.
Ignosco tibi, o deus Iudaeus.