The very small things that sustain you, you take for granted. The air that's inhaled, the food and drink tasted, the sights seen by the eye, the things touched by hand.. All things that have become rudimentary by age but if any of these things became endangered, there was a fear of loss. Why were you not grateful for these senses, for life, when you were whole? Why did you not considered thanks for being able to arise before the sun with life before now? Who do you think you are?
Sottish children.. these are a people who are grey haired and aged but alas, they suckle at the teats like newborns. You are lost in your senses, you are lost in a world that gives no profits in death. How long will you be wasteful and worthless? One says I'm a god, another says I'm a prince, a whorish woman calls herself a queen, speaking foolishness and calling up devils. Your titles cannot hide your faults, there is no power behind your thrones.. You're all naked before the host, you're all found out to be liars.
How can you say your estate is with the spirit when you have shown yourself wreckless and abominable before men? There is no mastery of the mundane! Ah yes.. I will finally relieve myself of all of the pretenders, I will setup camp in the midst of all your households. I will spread out my pavilion before your husbands, your wives, the children that are beloved and your kin that are afar off. I will whistle for jealously, I will yell out for sickness, I will lure pestilence from out of the darkness, I will beckon confusion to sing before you always till you destroy each other blindly.