![]() Each head watched, waiting, hungry, insane. He had the seven-headed dog faces of an ancient Cerberus. He was a dragon, squat and round in the torso, tapered ropy tail tucked under his body the small, thick osseous shields rising perpendicularly from the arched back, running down to the end of the tail, tips pointing upwards his taloned shorter arms folded across his massive chest. On the mauve level, crouched down in deeper magenta washings that concealed his arched form, the maniac waited. Who is The Beast That Shouted Love at the Heart of the World? The great psychedelic era… Great mind-bending ideas… ![]() "The Beast that Shouted Love at the Heart of the World" It is the beast of our savage past, hungering today, and waiting patiently for the mortal meal of all our golden tomorrows. It has never heard music, and shows its fangs when we panic. It waited for our coming and it will abide long after we have become congealed smoke. But when it breathes again we go down in fire and mate with jackals. When it sleeps we know a few moments of peace. It feasts on darkness from the minds of men. It beheaded mercy to take possession of that place. Only the riddle of which terrible dream will set it loose. ![]() ![]() "It crouches near the center of creation. ![]()
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