I have already uttered the words.
The image that I saw was crimson, fiery colored, a gleaming gold.
The voice that I heard was like distant thunder, like the wind roaring in the forest, like an earthquake.
It was not the voice of my old God.
It was a thunderous pagan roar, a call my ancestors knew but which I have never heard.
It sounded prehistoric, as if from a forest on a distant coast;
it rang with all the voices of the wilderness. It was full of horror yet harmonic. ~Elijah, The Black Books, Vol. VI, Page238