Religion: prison shadows of impregnable cruelty.

Peter’s First Denial
15 Simon Peter and another disciple were following Jesus. Because this disciple was known to the high priest, he went with Jesus into the high priest’s courtyard, 16 but Peter had to wait outside at the door. The other disciple, who was known to the high priest, came back, spoke to the servant girl on duty there and brought Peter in.

17 “You aren’t one of this man’s disciples too, are you?” she asked Peter.

He replied, “I am not.”

18 It was cold, and the servants and officials stood around a fire they had made to keep warm. Peter also was standing with them, warming himself. »

A tirade of miserable manifestations of the spectre of worldly faith, a pompous procession of the bifurcated language of the pitiful names and surnames of unfortunate souls, descendants of the holy cruelty of antiquity covering themselves with the shroud of humanity slaughtered by the theorists of the brutality of the foggy spectres of the times of the besotted panegyrics of sly praise stretched out over the impure airs of the soul that felt the veracity of its annihilation.
A nebula of icy tears warming itself next to the official ardour of the persecutors vaulted under the sigh of the deserted mind and the eternally disloyal soul because it is tartufian and piteous locked up in the dungeon of the mire of the unhealthy terror.
Pallid spirits eternally illustrating the holy treason hiding behind the cilices of time chained by the mummies of the gloomy wanderings of the thirsty for light, heirs of the mists that have exhausted all vain attempts to steal the shimmer of the victorious Soul, prisoners of the material world locked up in the cloisters of pitiful insignificance serving to perpetuate the nights and to try to steal the light as their only horrifying gift that of terrorising the glitter of the Soul in order to proclaim the perpetuity of the shadows.
An illusory attempt to purify a soul that has left its human essence since the twilight of ancient millennia, the pinnacle of murderous thoughts that sit on the benches of guillotined spirits in the crucible of vain nocturnal fugues of the spectres of miserable puffery experiencing the impact of the terror of suffering inanity on the Living Soul.
Jailer of the spectral spirits who aspire to eternalize death by abolishing life, a slavery custom that tends to lock the pulsating Soul in the dungeon of the stiffs rooted in the culture of the defunct civilization chaining freedom in order to reap the prizes of chaining renaming this the respect of freedom of thought .
Smoke of the ghosts of the gaoling shadows, casemates of the human soul, hosts of deliberate blindness, receiving in complicit silence the deceivers of the noisy tombs, invoking the gods and goddesses of the laziness of the "noble", praying at night for the resurrection of vain spirits such as "the nobility", corrupted fruit of poor inquisitions, citadel of the romantic assaults of criminal thoughts in order to purify crime in the crucible of the trials of blood and the internments of impregnable cruelty.

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