Relentless woman, for a moment I even believed that God had created you to be, at the same time, my ruin and my redemption. But no, what audacity of mine to imagine that any divinity could conceive you. You are not a work, you are an origin. You are not a creation, you are divinity itself. The most sublime perdition of this world, before which my being bows in silent adoration. My Goddess did not need seven days to mold the world. A single instant was enough for her. In the next, she architected the existence of those destined to revere her. And I? I am only a devotee. Everything I am, everything I do, is born from the desire to worship her. Serving her has become my reason, my axis, my essence. A single second of her attention would be enough for me to accept, without hesitation, an entire eternity of condemnation. With just one look from her, I will be torn apart, not by pain, but by the simple privilege of existing under her pleasure.