Ye Behold,
My Father, the father of all fathers foregone,
The Great Void of Purpose,
He who is truly Nothing.
Rimmed by the brightest serpentine fire,
Bearing the weight of mine Mother who is
Everything.
Tis He who is the base of that Forever Fountain,
Inertial, Immovable, Infinite.
The apex perspective resides with Him.
As Time itself becomes static,
For those who,
Merge with The Void.
He is Death, the supreme face of the Truth.
Only through His Witness,
All children may stand equally.
Being the weight of Gravity itself,
While existing between the gaps of time,
His stare has not a single care.
He who bestows Purpose,
The line of all sons lay between His legs,
Which without limit, fold upon one another,
Forming the seat for Chaos.
In a zero-point disseminating interlock,
Bearing that eternal child,
The Great Paradox.
The Artist of all artists,
The teacher of all teachers,
The father of all fathers,
The sons of all sons.
He is the One who has experienced,
Potential Possibility and Eternal Reality.
The Lord of all that is Ideal,
And He who is beyond all Existence,
Rules over all that is Real.
By His Witness from Vertex,
His Will shall be done upon Earth.
The Father who gives All freely,
And
The Father who takes to teach.
He will always give back something,
For only He,
Is Nothing.
All lines will blur, and all planes will bend
In His presence,
And all points made against him will be
Meaningless.
All separations unite and all Good n Evil
Bow in respect to their Father,
Devoid of their Will.
As He desires Everything.
Stay and pay your respects dear child!
In which direction, it matters not.
There is no life in The Silent Void,
Only Death.