Volaverunt Opus 666

Madrid, May 25, 1823.

It doesn't matter if you succeed or fail. It doesn't matter if you reach the finish line or get stuck on the starting line. What matters is not the finish line, it's the road... During his whole life, the only force that ekpt his already tired imagination from getting lazy was his will. But that was only his fuel, the food that made his body and mind not conform with failure, that driving force that made him wake up every morning and look into the eyes of defeat, and pushing it aside, follow his dreams. Every time he stood in front of a blank canvas, he studied it, he even talked to it. "What do you want to be?" - He asked-. And before he chose a color, he knew well in which pigment to submerge his brush; his soul... in the pigment of passion. Whatever you do in life, whether you succeed or fail, whether it's for fun or for a living; do it with passion. It doesn't matter if it's good or bad, if it's mediocre or sublime. Art without passion is like kissing a stone, it lacks heat, it doesn't have a soul... Whatever you do in life, do it with passion. A pearl is an insignificant grain of sand, nothing important, nobody cares. But with time, constancy and passion make something beautiful out of it, something so valuable that even the oceans respect. Everything starts being small! While he meditated, Goya gave his last brushstrokes to a a strange painting, like many others, in the walls of his isolated mansion, in the shores of the river Manzanares, in the banks of Aluche. The walls oh this residence were full of delirious scenes of superstitions, witchcraft and demonic acts. Saturn devouring his children is right over there so realistically it gives goosebumps,and there is the great Goat summoning his fierce parishioners, and there's his last painting, the ghastly and great Coven of faces made of stumbles, of malevolent grotesque people... and presiding it all: The Male Goat. Since his deafness took over his silences, Goya took shelter from the court of Ferdinand VII and this isolated big house, on the outskirts of Madrid. It was known in the village as the "House of the Deaf". There, with the company of Leocadia, who was in charge of the house, and the loyal Isidro, that served him as a translator and looked after the garden, was where a strange meeting took place, a meeting that would change the way things happened, and why not, the whole world... At one minute to midnight, under a thick darkness, a nimble and silent shadow knocked on the door of the House of the Deaf:

• Good evening, I'd like to see Don Fransisco de Goya, tell him I come from far away and Volaverunt sent me-. That man had an unusual foreign accent and was dressed in black, all black. Doña Leocadia, surprised by the unusual time to show up, invited the stranger in to wait for his master in a small couch of leather by the hall's fireplace. Don Fransisco used to recieve countless visits years ago but lately, due to his deafness, he became timid and taciturn. -Fransisco -she wrote in a piece of paper- a man with a foreign accent has come to see you, he asks for a moment alone with you, he has a letter and claims he's here on Volaverunt's behalf. -Volaverunt?-Goya said- tell him to come upstairs, please. Volaverunt! At last the time had come! That was the name of one of his "black paintings" (also known as "Caprichos"), engraved in nitric acid some years ago, and it was also the codename that would start the mechanism.... The visitor turned out to be german and a friend of Goethe -philosopher and novelist, author of the novel Faust among other titles, and one of Darwin's precursors-. It was asked in that letter for his presence in the french city of Bordeaux within a week, there he would be introduced to a celebrity, who, like him and several others, was part of the Society... The seal on the letter was marked by that bizarre sign that he saw in Goethe's house for the first time.

Bordeaux, June 1st. 1823

"Dear Fransisco, our time running out, you like all of us are closer to death than to life, our progressing old age rewards us in concluding this work. The Sleeping Voice shall wake up, and for that, today I'll introduce you to someone who lives illuminated by the light of art, a being that lives in the darkness of silence, a being that just like you, my old friend, is deaf..." That robust man turned out to be wasn't other than the man they spoke of in the Court of Spain, an exceptional musician, a composer that without hearing a single note, endowed them with magic, harmony, strength and elegance. He said he closed his eyes and heard the music clearly in his head. He was a unique being, his name was Ludwig van Beethoven. They agreed, after a long night of conversation -in which translators toiled to deliver the messages to the two deaf men of everything said that night-, that the best thing to do was to encrypt the message, waiting for an extremely sensitive being, with an uncorrupted human purity, to make it theirs. Goya hid the seceret Society's symbol in his black painting Volaverunt, and Beethoven did the same but with the phrase: "Missit me Dominus" (The Lord has sent me), hiding it in one of the fragments on his Symphony No. 9 in D minor. The Sleeping Voice shouldn't take too long to wake up...

Lyrics translation:

Gaia, Gaia, Gaia Free me, master, from eternal death Volaverunt, the Lord has sent me

SWEET!!!!!!!!!

Es la cancion mas demoniaca que he oido es exelente