Concealing his tracks in the sand, Azazel's presence is difficult to determine. His spirit is like a wisp of smoke, a trail of blood, a dune of sand, an arc of fractals. Benazir Bhutto's assassination was perpetrated by the seirim, an ancient species of goat-like spirits, archdemons whom dwell in the desert. The boon of democracy in Pakistan was murdered by the evil djinn, Shaitan. Suicide bombers and zombie assassins in allegiance to Hassan i Sabbah make quick work of whatever potentates the powers of liberty and justice in Islam. The fallen angel, Azazel, bides his time covering up the intentionality of his subjects and lusting after the corporeal form of mortal women. The assassins of democracy in Pakistan will have difficulty concealing their tails and cloven hooves in the days to come as the world watches while they conduct ostentatious democratic reform. Women will always be regarded as inferior by those who are intimidated by their grace. By revealing eternal secrets to the human race, Azazel is the betrayer of fate. He has lain open the gates of Hell and lured mortals towards them with the promise of temporal potency. Of course, what is hidden from the view of mortals is Azazel's secret intent of betrayal toward the subterfuge of time. The fourth-dimensional double helical vortex of defined time, having reached its physical limit, is beginning to collapse upon itself, its essential substance being revealed as eternal. All fabrication will manifest itself as erroneous as time purifies itself and prepares for the grand cycle to begin. Azazel's arc is the fractal tangentially erupting from Earth's orbit which has reached an impasse in the cosmic electromagnetic structural lattice and has reflected back upon its progenitor. It is the lights in the sky. It's the pain your soul experiences as you descend into the abyss. It is the inevitable outcome of a life lived in shameful solipsism.
