Ouroboros and Sleipnir

do not cast out the shadow of death by belief or mysticism. blazing glory and terrible awesomeness is the only worthy element for consumption amongst the deathless ones. it is not a rain of truth but a savage thirst in a desert of weak ideology. a forest of rotting trees with roots that tangle against the trunk, refusing to hold dirt. it is the fish that throws himself on the bank of the river for salvation from the bear.