The feeling of destroying the capacity for inward peace
An insane dance with the angels of innocence amidst thorns and in frenzy
The warmth of a divine blessing
A daringness which prevailed over any imaginable fear
Hovering on the brink of a voluntary act of contrition
But soon all pales
Besides the cry this shattering truth wrests from all fellow men
There is more to it than suffering and sounds of suffering
It is a process that only the extinction of a divine soul could terminate
The eye can outstare neither the sun nor death
If I sought God it was in delirium and in the delight of temptation

The idea of salvation comes, I believe, from the one whom suffering breaks apart
He who masters it, on the contrary, needs to be broken
To proceed on the path towards the rupture
Towards the rapture
Towards the rapture

Nothing of what man can know, to this end
Could be evaded without degradation, without sin
Is it no burden to bear the repellent scars of abandon, of election?

It leaves but a state of supplication and deserted expanses
An absorption into despair

The existence of things cannot enclose
The death which it brings to me
The existence is itself projected into my death, and it is my death which encloses it
Am I deranged? Over and above quietism!
Nurtured by the multitude of man's misfortunes
A thousand halos like torches in the night of the spirit
A thousand traps, pitfalls of brimstone
And the empty sky, prostrated face against the earth in frantic laughter

I was beyond withstanding my own ignominy
I invoked it and blessed it
I progressed even further into vileness and degradation

Am I resurging
Intact, out of infamy?