Nyarlathotep

My flight should be yours ? the consequence of my hatred towards this obnoxious opaqueness of my thoughts.
I have now opened the gate of these halls of perpetual sleep.
My eyes are dazzled and twinkling in the splendour of truth and virtue.
I observe the truthful waves of an incredibly vast ocean of knowledge, tender waves that surge onto the soiled shores of these silent walls of lie.
Suddenly an abrupt fea rgrabs for my feeble limbs.
From deep within the thought ? cathedral´s bowels a dull plaintive cry passes this ruin´s threshold ? I have to flee now, leaving behind the gloomy chaos, the creeping chaos, this oh so malicious and omnipresent consciousness paralysing clarity wickedly, Nyarlathotep!
An old messenger of the old ones that are dancing infinitely in absurdity within the spaceless and abstruse mess of distorted dimensions no eye will ever see.
Now I am standing on this dim tomb´s threshold breathing in cognition and observing the waves of knowledge comforting my feet - I emerge >from a blissful veil that caresses my crippled senses.
I hesitate.
I am standing on the border between lie and cognition unable to move.
The crows are swirling around the thought ? cathedral´s tower mocking my weakness cruelly.
And I didn´t walk.
I didn´t behold what is precious truth.
I didn´t walk ?
and now I am cocooned by this obnoxious opaqueness once again.
I am ignominously prisoned in the thought ? cathedral´s bowels, musing deeply on this diffuse why ? like so many others that wither in the ruins of their defiled reflection.
I am roaming in my thought ? cathedral´s halls, mocked by the crows I saw a long time ago, and Nyarlathotep´s chaos fills me up, reminding me brutally and for all eternity that the thought ? cathedral´s gate is closed now.
But I found a secret seed when I saw truth in its splendour ... .