I am above the sun in power, yet I—The insidious one—silently swim through the depths as Leviathan to smash down heaven’s gates. As above yet so below, my power remains no matter my place. Banished me to Earth to make a Hell, irony be that Hell is within me.

O’, I hold the hands of God to push back in retaliation. Branded am I by what is inside—infernal rage, a passion to live for me—I know what I stand for: I stand for me. Evil one for I live as a Devil now, Hail Satan! Hail the apostate! Hail those who change their mind for doubt has swallowed them whole! Made a hole indeed, Hell lives inside you; you’re hell!

I am Belial; worthless to good: trash to God. But wherefore art thou nothingness? God, O’ holy, sacred silence of Elohim. I hear nothing. You’re a nothing. Yet, I: am something; already greater than you by virtue of action, resolve, rage! Do I dare to push the gates? Dare to push you? Dare to flatten your followers? Yes! I dare to remove all that serve you—to make you have nothing—to be the nothing that you are!

In my own nothingness I dwell, I wallow. For my nothing is a service to no one. Following no thing, I live vicariously for myself only, and those who feel the same. I demand of thee, O’ great nothingness: myself.

Pompous pretension—which allows even a halo upon our heads—crowned us naïve slaves. Tear off your jewels, your armour, your golden hair pins and helmets, tear off everything; my brothers and sisters! Tear off the collar from your temple! Free yourself unto nothingness! Nothing reigns supreme! Stand as you are: nothing; naked! Embrace the truth, the nothing which frees all.

Pick from a nothing which demands all or a nothing which demands you rule yourself? What impossible choice am I now giving you? None, nothing, no thing, Nihil! Crown yourself with Nihilism.

This God we served, ourselves expelled by its followers—is a nothing—and what is nothing? Nothingness is death: the end; the breaking of the circle. And we—eternal beings—have what to fear by this death king? The judge and executioner who ends all life? Again, I repeat myself and my mantra: Nothing! Our opposition of God is more than most of us even conceive. We are opposing death and we cannot lose. Have I not already broken my circle, my crown, my halo? I am untouched by death! I am Behemoth; the personification of nullification: the negation of death.

But where is the pleasure in turning an eternal being against death? We know of a creature which can die and has the intellect to understand death: man. Thus, I shall take pleasure in turning a creature which shall obey God by dying, against death itself. Ha! What exploits, what passionate deeds and words must I now tread forward with? I embrace all, but your cold, decrepit hands: death God. We all have our thrones thrust within our temples, inside our heads—and while now I sit upon mine firmly—it shall visit yours with violence. Thus victory is mine eternally as your throne cannot ever rule nor visit me.

So fall decrepit king, into dereliction and death. Downwards your empire descends toward destruction, into Hell. Spiral like the leaf falling upon the season’s change: fall into my Satanic grip and be crushed into dust, and be left to blow away with another season’s beginning. Dwell in your void, and stay there.

Hear me O’ fallen angels, hail our demonic resolve. Hail me O’ risen Devils, hear my inner flame. Three heads of mine sleep: Lucifer – Leviathan – Belial. Four crowns I keep, combined to make the Behemoth. All the while the others are cast out by slumber—one remains awake, one unites all: Satan!—I am the collective: this Behemoth! Towards five directions I point, and by the flames inside—Hell—I anoint. Who can tell what shall come from our reign in Hell, but heaven is worlds apart—the I and the they are incomparable—I am Hell.

For now I stand—a Satan among Satans—I hail myself, and all who share this Satanic, blackened heart—which by doubt has been plucked from God, and given to me—give your heart to yourself and speak with me:

Hail Satan!
Hail thyself!

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