Author-rogue, unknown toreador of darkness who raises the sword of starless nights.

John 16:16-33
The Disciples’ Grief Will Turn to Joy
16 Jesus went on to say, “In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me.”

17 At this, some of his disciples said to one another, “What does he mean by saying, ‘In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me,’ and ‘Because I am going to the Father’?” 18 They kept asking, “What does he mean by ‘a little while’? We don’t understand what he is saying.”

19 Jesus saw that they wanted to ask him about this, so he said to them, “Are you asking one another what I meant when I said, ‘In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me’? 20 Very truly I tell you, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. 21 A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come-;- but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. 22 So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy. 23 In that day you will no longer ask me anything. Very truly I tell you, my Father will give you whatever you ask in my name. 24 Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete.

25 “Though I have been speaking figuratively, a time is coming when I will no longer use this kind of language but will tell you plainly about my Father. 26 In that day you will ask in my name. I am not saying that I will ask the Father on your behalf. 27 No, the Father himself loves you because you have loved me and have believed that I came from God. 28 I came from the Father and entered the world-;- now I am leaving the world and going back to the Father.”

29 Then Jesus’ disciples said, “Now you are speaking clearly and without figures of speech. 30 Now we can see that you know all things and that you do not even need to have anyone ask you questions. This makes us believe that you came from God.”

31 “Do you now believe?” Jesus replied. 32 “A time is coming and in fact has come when you will be scattered, each to your own home. You will leave me all alone. Yet I am not alone, for my Father is with me.
33 “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”
from the roaring darkness that descended to the abyss of a text that can only be assimilated to a concept-lemures : the "purgatory" in which leprosy develops, streams of lies that proclaim the solitude of corpses facing their state-destiny: the mist of crime on the floor on which the breaths of the shadows abandoned by the cowardice of the snowy seats rise, facing the furtive cold of the heads haunted by a god-chimera, author-rogue, Jesus-rascal , a character conceived in the anger of the mists of yesteryear in order to ask for faith in a nothingness let loose by the founders of the rascal winds of a prior spirit invoking the despotic silence of the old hangers-on with faith in the disloyal pen of the deft puffs of noisy criminal morals.
Interpreting the ambiguity of the guillotined meanings on the scaffold of the reality of the crime sculptor of the marble maker of the steps that groped on the shadows of a torturer-state that accustoms the members of the nation to the guillotine, morals of the chimeras-country of the eternal agony of its children betrayed by the spittle of the shameful tears of the old scoundrel invoking the tumults of crime-religion, a skilful artifice rising in the twilight of the foggy times of the damp ceilings of the bleeding walls, of the tender tears of poor rascal politicians pierced by the ruddy swords of a forthcoming election of a Mr. president-varmint guillotined without knowing it by the rigour of eternally forthcoming homicide, by the sweat of the weeping walls of the virtuous opacities which interpret in the muteness of groaning consciences the chastity of the ascetic slaughter of the children of the nation-poet.
A disenchanted glimpse of a recrucified text that extols the boldness of a suffering destiny that reinvents at the dawn of contemporary times the ruddy shades of a sky haunted by an eternal secret of a creation that redefines perfection, the infinite beauty of the eternity of blessed life, can it invite cursed characters such as Jesus to sing the fateful melody of renowned bitterness?
Toreador of darkness that straightens the sword of starless nights, fighting the light of the immortal creator of the rays of the fine splendour of the smile to the perpetual life of the benevolent love of the Soul born of the day testifying to the glory of the coruscation faithful to its destiny-light.
Unfortunate dagger stroke betrayed by the fiery words of oaths carried by the distant breaths of a word stabbed from the beginning by crime-"religion" inheriting the crimson feathers devouring the clump of bare trees of a morose shadow completed by the harquebus blows of hatred conceived by the pestiferous infernal gods
eternally ignoring the purity of the holy rain drenching the thirsty land with a sip of enchanted heavenly water.
The shivering imagination shaking the descended hopes experiencing the fall of the mummified sense into the abyss of the foretold afflictions, the scattering of the flying dust in the impure airs, the loneliness of the spirit separated from the Soul from the beginning from which the spirit become matter is inhabited by the sole search of the material it is thus the torments of the consciousness experienced by the spirituality the dwelling of the thought are enlightened by the miracle of the vision-sparkle.
fragments of night scattered in the nothingness of groves devoured by the calefaction of impetuous summer evenings experiencing the wanderings of a mind blinded by the ashes of a saving torture, the dregs of a fetid envy of the mists of twilight buried in the tumult of murderous ideas, that is to say, the putrid vengeance of the darkness fallen into the barbarism, of light, the candour of the purified human soul.

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