In the space behind the sun, stand three crosses, cracked and crooked, bent by time into an indeciferable form read only by the endless hole into which my dreams flee this white sun. Dawn and dusk stand in the center of the world, tilted variations on the zenith. The trinity stands to confine the one central cross into a prison of bars and wheels. It is through divination that these wheels are broken and the final cross overtakes the mortal ones, crushing the cross of birth and the cross of death. Divination is only possible through destruction. The central cross of the zenith must be embraced as by Christ in order to transcend the cycle.
On the next page, I included the following diagram of the dead stream.


