Cruel Beyond Words
An Ode to the Æge of Pisces
by Distance Risitng Vultures. Written July 16, 2025.

They say we entered into the Æge of Pisces sometime recently; it doesn't happen instantly, but rather it is a gradual process, as it must be, for it cometh from the heavens (stars).

Woe to the Abrahamic religions! For you have severely harmed the reputations of those who bear such a blessed image; where Jesus forgave, I shall judge, for the plank in mine eye was not lodged there by mine own doing.

Whilst I would condemn the pedophile without question, I, too, would defend LGBT+ folk to the ends of the Earth and back, for righteous, is this cause. You call us "groomers", while you groom your children to hate, to judge, to economically stave us like a game of keep away, all because your ancestors chose to enslave those who worked with the Earth, instead of against the Mother.

Jesus said, "Forgive them, Creator, for they know not what they do." I, however, shall inform them what they do, that it is heinous and without virtue; I shall show them a clear path forward and away, out of the darkness: I shall bring them love, write endlessly like Father Paul Matthias Dobberstein who tirelessly built the Grotto: to build an immaculate alter before God and Humanity; to rise from the blood-stained ashes this world has left me in; soul ignited forever radiant blazing surging, BLASTING up out of the dreggs like the mighty Phoenix as I must, and may, like kindling, your souls light aflame, unable, like twigs, to prevent from igniting as well: and when you assess the source, you shall know, without doubt, the Creator's will.

For Æons humanity has murdered and tortured God's Creation: from Earth to Animal to LGBT+, based on ancient dogmas transcribed by Men astray; Men of Good Hearts who paved the path to Hell on hEarth as the Heavens tremble in pain; Angels sob; Mountains quake; Oceans rise; and Valleys patiently await the Great Replanting.   

When torches lain smouldering upon the ground alongside the bodies and tormented souls of Alexis Rivera, Frank Cook, Frank Schiavo, Ashawna Hailey, Bill Hill, Ladonna Brave Bull Allard, and Myron Dewey, one by one I gathered them, breathed the Breath of Life upon the sparks, and kept their flames afire. Like flags, I now plant them firmly, like flags, into the soil of this Midwest Soil; the Hearth of the Nation, on the other side of the world from where The Most Loving One was wrongly murdered and wrongly changed from Martyr to Deity, and Justice has not yet been served. They wrongly interpreted Mjölnir to be mere "hammer", and not a Gavel of Justice, the blood that runneth through Mayan dry ice cold veins; His blood; He, who hung from Yggdrasil; His Thunder, Mine Voice; His Lightning, imbued into to the internet, traveling the world round, LOUD, striketh deep into the Heart of Humankindling; His Forgotten Fury, Our Love; Angels, SING; Trumpets, BLOW; Words, enter softly betwixt their Hearts, I pray...

For He doth sayeth, “My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jewish leaders. But now my kingdom is from another place.” I would hack down the cross from the base; Pharisees, felled to ash; I would bandage His wounds, pouring on oil and wine, and bring him on his own donkey to an inn and take care of him; soaked chia to clot the gouges, yarrow to stop the bleeding, water to restore life, and sage to fill the Spirit anew.

I am Flame Alit, ignited by torches lit upon a Free Land Taken for Granted, where some still pushed forward. And where there is Freedom, they chose silence: I shall NEVER. Like Prometheus, I bring ye Fire, Humanity, and should you tie me to a Tree, the Vultures, who know Me well, wouldst peck Mayan bindings free and accompany me as I returneth to tell my story, scathed but True.

I am Distance; a Far Past remembered; a Beckoning Horizon, a possibility that is certain, should Humanity only choose correctly this time.

I shall never give up. I have returned to this Earth more times than is recorded, and each time the story just a bit twisted: each time, BANG, dead, BANG, dead, BANG, dead, BANG, dead: I am the Time Serpent of Legend, crawling since of the Dawn of Recorded Time; The Redeemer, and soon, the Redeemed One; Mayan Wings, I shall reclaim, for this is Mayan victory to claim: it was deemed before I descended this lifetime, for The Creator is the most forgiving, most loving, most Angelic of all the beings, and you are The Resurrected Ones: ye who believe: ye who trust; ye who have been wounded; ye who have been hurt; ye who have given up; ye who have failed; ye who have gotten up and tried again. IGNITE!

To be continued....