Anpu Small talk.
7 feb 1995.ev.
In dark days; there still shall be darker nights.
Oh Heron, whistle thou as always.
Your blessed tunes is mine worship goin.
I say; still in dark days I await the minute to open the sacred house
for mine worshipper.
Oh, Moon; do you open? For them?
Do you just let them wander astray and let astrayness be house enough
by its bewildering novelty?
Steamy vapouring of dog breath to the sky.
HA ! The life of a dog seems still to do.
The cleanliness and simplicity of a dogbody is a grand gift to every human.
Do thou as me; to the achieving of a very special Holyness.
Nothing in special.
Hate occurs, but by its character it is also to disappear, though the
insincere is difficulter to get rid of, I do say; every way is way enough,
the problem may be the wanderer.
Silence to silence, or howling beauty;
How shall I lose with the grace of the God that I havent become?
Purple veins articulates then, In heaven as in Earth.
Pressure unbearable, gravity completed.
I promise I wont bear it.
None will do.
Then I say my word, the word of AnPu, for there is a selection.
The moment is ready, my followers make their day, and the world pass as
Eggs of beauty, glowing with pace in the amentioned house, where thieves
aint allowed and will never be.
Here I dwell as the everpresent spirit which has evergoing vehicles made
for any purpose of the Great Will.
I live close to treasures as she is locked with the form and screams for
I can say more, but wont this time.