Yog-Sothtoth, the Gate and the Key

There outside the feeble, flimsy bauble of reality stirs a power unlike any. One freed from the shackles of existence and yet very much a prisoner in a new, unfathomable way, for it the Universe is a snow globe – pristine and shiny bauble that can be shaken and watched, but hard to penetrate into without shattering it beyond repair. It is all-encompassing, omniscient, all-powerful in its own dimension, but harsh, unyielding realspace is both a corrosive wasteland and the most tempting of sensation. It craves. It needs. It doesn’t fold it’s great intelligence to anything we can even begin to consider. It encompasses all yet it can reach naught. It sees all, yet it cannot notice. It is everywhere and nowhere, the great secret from beyond, the influence over all other, figment of the truth, mirror to the tangible. All is one in Yog-Sothoth. Yog-Sothoth knows the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the key and guardian of the gate. Past, present, future, all are one in Yog-Sothoth. To call upon its name is madness. To seek its blessing is oblivion. To be granted its aid is doom. Hear a single thought and your mind will shatter. Glimpse its radiance and wither. There is no other way. There is no other choice. There is only the cosmos - there is only Yog-Sothoth. And there is only surrender to its manifold will.