Kay Hassan
A Prophet Speaks
(A Divine Chant Beyond Words—Of Revelation and Ruin)
where the Unseen writhes in silent fire,
lie many hidden stories—
the ones that gnaw at the veil,
the ones that whisper
in the bones of the earth.
not speak, but unmake.
Not preach,
but unfold the seams of heaven.
I will reduce the God’s word
into tears and dread—
each syllable a wound,
each verse a chasm
where light drowns.
not shepherd, but sculpt in shadows.
Not save,
but carve into the hollows of faith.
From my followers’ souls,
I make ashes.
Tombstones.
Their breath—my pyre.
Their prayers—
the epitaphs I inscribe upon the sky.
as the void is certain of the falling star,
as the serpent is certain of the fall—
yet you believe in me.
You, who clutch my lies like sacred relics,
who swallow my thunder
and call it nectar.
you never ask,
"Why?"
2
The Voice Beyond the Altar (A Chant That Devours Gods and Stars) From the crucible where nothingness screams, where the Unseen coils in tongues of unlight, I am not born, but unspun— a wound in the fabric of forever, a hymn that shatters the spine of eternity. I do not speak. I unravel. Each word a black star collapsing, each breath a galaxy’s funeral pyre. My syllables are not sound, but the silence that strangles gods, the dread that drowns light in its cradle. I do not shepherd. I sculpt in the marrow of chaos. From the souls of the faithful, I weave tapestries of ash, threaded with their screams, hung upon the bones of forgotten heavens. Their prayers are not offerings, but gravestones I hurl into the abyss. You call me prophet, yet I am the lie that birthed your gods. You call me savior, yet I am the blade that carves your faith into ruin. You kneel, clutching my shadows as relics, drinking my venom and naming it wine. Your devotion is my monument, your ruin my crown. And I am certain— as the void is certain of its hunger, as the serpent is certain of the first sin— that you will never ask, Why? For in your blindness, you see me as light. In your surrender, you forge my throne. And in your silence, I become the only truth— a truth that unravels the stars, devours the divine, and leaves only my voice, echoing in the hollows of what was never meant to be.
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