Listen O' ye weary traveler
To my tale of Love and Death.
This life is a cruel mistress,
She seeks to destroy the proud,
So be not haughty in they proud hour,
Lest you hand yourself into the hands of Abadden.
Love, such is the most paradoxical of phenomena.
The choice of love has built and destroyed kingdoms,
It lifts the head of the meek and humbles the proud.
Beware of the emotion my brother,
It poses as the beautiful gift,
But it is a wold waiting to devour the unsuspecting shepherd.
Do not trust the con lest you fall into the bowels of its gaping mouth.
O' Death the enemy of any weary traveler in this life.
He is not gracious to the gracious not the proud,
For all have fallen short, but the wise man who
Bathes in the blood of the Lamb
There is eternal reconciliation and life.
For those who sleep at the feet of Abaddon,
Shall forever find themselves the bride of Death.
Beware my brother,
Do not lose sight of the holy lighthouse,
For it is by its light ships guide their rudders,
And weary travelers such as thee take refuge.
The keeper of the light is a gracious man who loves to keep company.
He will keep you from the pits of Sheol,
For he is not only the keeper of the lighthouse,
He is the lighthouse.
Now weary traveler heed my wisdom,
So thou shan't befall my fate.
I traveled here before thee and fell into the hands,
of Love and Death.
Listen to my words, for I am the past and present.
Do not become a part of me weary traveler,
for I am the gatekeeper of
The Millennium Door.