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echoes of theology bent in the arms of giants

nobles demand the luxury of meaning

but this printing house's ink is only white and the pages are white too

marble halls we dwell in – labirynth we live in

the tribe with no mythology

wall writing catacomb dwellers

in a desperate need

for the luxury of meaning

but this library offers dust and dust only so how do you turn the pages?

marble halls we dwell in – labirynth we live in

I once had a dream I was locked in the complex of marble rooms and corridors,

full of notes and books, /

written in all known languages

both on walls and floor amd on the books and scrolls

placed all over the place in all humanly possible constellations and ways

/ yet the sense was lost

Because all the letters were mixed

after sort of an earthquake or cataclysm

and lived there humanlike demon who came too close to me one time

/ scaring me to death

I grabbed him by the face squeezing it, afraid of how fragile he actualy is,

and how much pain

I'm causing him, still I mashed his eyeless head

like a piece of paper and woke up in fevers