Just in case you are curious....

 

“I devotedly believe that the essence of my being - my spirit - is not truly a part of the universe, it is a part of Chaos. My spirit is a fragment of the Hidden God beyond the nutshell we call the cosmos; thus being trapped in a human body is only a prison in my eyes.”

The people once knew it by many titles. They saw it when the malformed crawled out of their mother’s wombs. When the ravens flew into the windows. When the cows could not produce milk and when the diseases spread. Its face had always been there. During the pestilence of the Black Plague, and its presence felt in the beds of the sweating sickness. Among the frightened royalty of the species, it appeared in their bed covers as they gasped their final moments covered in pustules and sores.”

“Last night I saw upon the stair, A little man who wasn’t there, He wasn’t there again today Oh, how I wish he’d go away…”

“It was odd, how everyone spoke of it, as though it were one single event. The time when the county had turned upside down and all rules of logic were discarded out of the windows of reason. It had all began when Tony Anderson was taken to the hospital for drunkenly shooting up his house. That one single night, seemed to unleash something rather otherworldly on the community. It was then that the autumn harvests began to mysteriously die and wither. It was then that hushed rumors began about deformed cattle, milk curdled and sour eggs were yielded from the chickens. When people began speaking of shadows lurking in their hallways, and voices outside of their windows at night.”

“It hated humankind. Yet, the creature remembered when ancient ones left blood stained shrines in its honor. Its greedy eyes watched the peasants, sacrificing precious cattle, in the hope of immunity from its deadly wrath. The creature could recall dairy offerings on cottage steps, left in hope, that it would not invade the sanctity of the mortal homes to steal wailing newborn infants from their cradles. It listened to desperate prayers of farmers as they begged for their pitiful crops. When anglers sprinkled salt upon their fishing nets to satiate its thirst. The creature and its kind spread the killing frosts that foretold of harsh winters. It traversed the heat of the summer skies, voiding the air of moisture during the drought filled months. It burned those feeble little dwellings the people called churches.”

“It did not fear any god the people constructed from marble and stone. It thrived on demoralizing the frightened prayers of the weak that clung to sanctuary walls. Its intoxication found in the terror, the superstition, and worship that fed its merciless existence. The night sky provided the nocturnal shelter where it walked freely. The festivals of the changing seasons, reminding the mere mortals their time upon its fields were short. Brief in comparison to the thousands of years that it casually passed. It ruled the Earth, long before the human animals learned to conquer shelter and formulate abstract thoughts. In the cave paintings of the most primitive, they feared to paint its imagery on stone.”

“At long last we have arrived... In the land of the lost, where we all belong.”

“If the desert is holy, it is because it is a forgotten place that allows us to remember the sacred. Perhaps that is why every pilgrimage to the desert is a pilgrimage to the self. There is no place to hide and so we are found.”

“You call it demonic because you hear screaming, I call it life saving because I hear the meaning.”

“Desert… is a very good place to find yourself. Or lose yourself.”