NEUOFFENBARUNG← Gifts of Heaven · Volume 2 · Contents
The light of the heights
Written in Greifenburg, August 1841.
[1] Turn the apple of your eye to the light-bathed heights and read the great signs of the omnipotence of your God! What – you dusty worm tremble before the murmur of an evening breeze that whispers softly only through the dry branches of rotten, dead firs and spruces, and do not dare to lift your light-shy eye up to the holy heights?
[2] You free spirit dare not?! But in ambush, in sin's dark chambers, you can well rise, violence and destruction brood in your assured impudence, and it seems great to you to crush earths into atoms with your lazy lungs' blight; there you are free, yes, more than free in the great darkness of your madness. However, looking up to the heights bathed in light will not allow you, the madman, to have your own devastating vertigo!
[3] Oh worm, you writhe in vain, the glittering dust surrounding you falls from you, and you are naked in all your abomination! You search yourself laboriously for a protective grave on the wide blood-soaked earth; and behold, it has closed all it’s yawning chasms, and made it’s waters hard as stones – where then will you still crawl to, that you may have a refuge?
[4] They that walk on the earth have known you and are greatly repulsed by you; do you indeed think, you delusional great one, that they will grant you space in their graves for a shameful rest or let you crawl into the old coffins, that the great light from the holy heights may not harm you and you may not be overtaken by it and make not yourself manifest before all the stars' eyes? In vain do you now settle the old iniquity, your plague-puppet is exposed, lazy liar throughout the long night; consume still the vile rest of your grains of gold stolen from the sanctuary.
[5] Behold, the holy light rustles violently and unstoppably down from the heights; Mountains bear witness against you with voices of thunder, and close their chasms from you, and make them dry up all their fruitful springs, since you want to crawl around them. Where is your greatness now, which you dreamed of in your death-chamber? See how you become ever smaller, how everything flees you, loathes you, and closes itself off from you delusional great one – even the throat of the brood of hyenas will not give you any more praise, and will drive you from the bleeding land, and the dragon of the sea will tear the sails of your walled ships. Why do you shout and whimper in the holy airs, in the light-filled ones; and the tiger and the rattlesnake – otherwise your faithful followers – call against you and commit murderous high treason in your festering entrails!
[6] Behold, as the sun ray of the Pontine Marshes destroys evil foggy air, the light of the height will do to you, and you will never return. Behold, this works the light from the height, showing the Great Day, the Last, the Infinite. Amen.