We stare into the radiant light, and stumble blind and mad into the moonless night. We bow not our heads, nor do we ask for mercy.

The world is agony.

This is a journey of pain, ecstasy, and death. We do not seek companionship, because this prison of flesh is a solipsism. We straddle the balancing point between light and darkness, love and hate, life and death. We hide our countenance to reveal the hidden face of god.

Eternity is but an instant.

We hang ourself from trees and crosses. We bleed and suffer. All in roaring silence.

The spectre of T × R × P is channelled through the form of Th.oth XIX.