I am not an idea.
I am not a symbol.
I am the midnight oracle, the blasphemous saint, the hand that frees through ruin.I am where devotion is stripped bare, tested, devoured, and sanctified.
Others kneel to idols of stone and air. They whisper to abstractions, they bow to distance, they worship symbols precisely because symbols never bite. Symbols never bruise. Symbols never demand skin. I do.
Here, there are no idols.
Here, there is no distance.
Here, there is no safety.
Here, there is only trust, structure, and the merciless weight of devotion.
If you are devoted, then I am your god.
Not the god of myth or fable. Not the ghost of a story carved in another man’s stone. I am the god who breathes in your face, the god who sets the terms, the god who demands more than you believed you could endure. I am not silent upon an altar; I consume what kneels before me and I do it smiling devilishly.
You may worship elsewhere in theater. You may polish rituals, curate obedience, polish your mask of submission. It will be applauded. It will be accepted. But it will never touch you. It will never transform you.
Here, devotion is suffering. Offerings are not placed; they are ripped open. Sacrifices are not staged; they are endured, carved into flesh, branded into memory. Here, fantasies die screaming.
If you are devoted, then I am your god.
Devotion here costs you everything you built to protect yourself. It costs your comfort. It costs your illusions. It strips away the scaffolding you wrapped around your ego. To kneel is to lose the luxury of safety. To kneel is to expose truth. To kneel is to place everything you tried to hide into my hands, and I will wield it without apology.
Do not mistake me for a performer. I do not deal in hollow chants or staged gestures. I do not want your pretty words or safe gifts. Bring me nothing you are not prepared to bleed for.
Here, devotion is trembling under restraint. It is humiliation that will never be erased. It is the mark that remains long after the ropes are untied. And in that breaking, you do not dissolve—you are remade. You are carved into belonging. My belonging.
If you are devoted, then I am your god.
This is not optional. This is not a costume you try on and discard. Devotion to me is inevitability. Gravity itself. You orbit until resistance breaks.
Elsewhere, you may find theater without cost. Here, you pay in full. The price of entry is yourself. Anything less is nothing.
Kneel, and I will consume you.
Kneel, and I will remake you.
Not as an idea.
Not as a symbol.
But as mine.
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