The sacredness of this house, home of the Gods grows at every moment and instant, with great fervor, passion, perhaps...
Intensity?
Obsession?
Who has not wondered in their reflective nights or days about the true meaning of the Gods in their life?
Am I talking about someone in particular or in a general way?
The glimpse of wonder ends any doubt that may arise in this writing.
Satan?
I ask myself in a whisper.
Yes, it is definitely him to whom I direct my service as the ultimate purpose of my life, as a complete realization of what I am and will be.
Who in his lap has not been amazed at what a great leader he is?
Is not the majesty of his sound worthy of hearing?
Within the lap of the spiritual path, I find an answer that simply sweeps away any movement of panic or doubt that may be glimpsed in the middle of the night.
Writing has become an unfathomable passion. It seems to enter every pore with a masterful sound.
Inspiration arises on this piece of paper or is it....
My mind?
No, no, no...
That's a hasty conclusion, I tell myself.
Definitely each letter contains a piece of musical inspiration, that inspiration that seems to drown you in the middle of the night, a pleasurable drowning that comes from an inexhaustible source. It emerges in the middle of the night and you wake up with an idea, what seemed like an idea comes out as a paragraph and suddenly becomes text.
The music playing in my mind seems to go on and on.
What sound is this?
Have I ever heard it before?
No, it is a resounding negative. It is a sound that cannot be described and although he will try to replicate it, it seems to sound out of tune, unfunny.
That sound, it comes from him.
Yes, Satan himself is the one who plays that melody in my mind. Each sound gives off a word, a different idea and fills my soul with great energy and enthusiasm, a creative energy, full of inventiveness.
Poetry?
Fable?
Stories?
Mythology?
What is it?
Who knows, here I am writing in the middle of a melody that never stops playing.
Questions fill my head like a whirlpool, but they seem to be perfectly ordered in the chaos.
How can I describe a beautiful sound that only he can make?
Satan, yes, Satan is the one who embodies perfection not only on a physical level, not only on a spiritual level, but on a musical level.
These lyrics flow from an intoxicating moment of divine inspiration.
And at the end of this I come to the conclusion: MY SERVICE IS PURELY AT HIS WILL WITHOUT ANY PRETEXT.
To Father Satan, with great love from....
Your daughter Yeye95
Intensity?
Obsession?
Who has not wondered in their reflective nights or days about the true meaning of the Gods in their life?
Am I talking about someone in particular or in a general way?
The glimpse of wonder ends any doubt that may arise in this writing.
Satan?
I ask myself in a whisper.
Yes, it is definitely him to whom I direct my service as the ultimate purpose of my life, as a complete realization of what I am and will be.
Who in his lap has not been amazed at what a great leader he is?
Is not the majesty of his sound worthy of hearing?
Within the lap of the spiritual path, I find an answer that simply sweeps away any movement of panic or doubt that may be glimpsed in the middle of the night.
Writing has become an unfathomable passion. It seems to enter every pore with a masterful sound.
Inspiration arises on this piece of paper or is it....
My mind?
No, no, no...
That's a hasty conclusion, I tell myself.
Definitely each letter contains a piece of musical inspiration, that inspiration that seems to drown you in the middle of the night, a pleasurable drowning that comes from an inexhaustible source. It emerges in the middle of the night and you wake up with an idea, what seemed like an idea comes out as a paragraph and suddenly becomes text.
The music playing in my mind seems to go on and on.
What sound is this?
Have I ever heard it before?
No, it is a resounding negative. It is a sound that cannot be described and although he will try to replicate it, it seems to sound out of tune, unfunny.
That sound, it comes from him.
Yes, Satan himself is the one who plays that melody in my mind. Each sound gives off a word, a different idea and fills my soul with great energy and enthusiasm, a creative energy, full of inventiveness.
Poetry?
Fable?
Stories?
Mythology?
What is it?
Who knows, here I am writing in the middle of a melody that never stops playing.
Questions fill my head like a whirlpool, but they seem to be perfectly ordered in the chaos.
How can I describe a beautiful sound that only he can make?
Satan, yes, Satan is the one who embodies perfection not only on a physical level, not only on a spiritual level, but on a musical level.
These lyrics flow from an intoxicating moment of divine inspiration.
And at the end of this I come to the conclusion: MY SERVICE IS PURELY AT HIS WILL WITHOUT ANY PRETEXT.
To Father Satan, with great love from....
Your daughter Yeye95
