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The world’s fields lie dry, barren, and brown. Nowhere is there flour, oil, or a little wine. But regardless of his pain, the world swine still cackles and mocks. In giant tidal waves where seawater bubbles and foams through city streets, while infrastructures disappear like paper houses underneath it. There the houses of the wicked lie destroyed in irreparable ruins. But humble and small, righteous and pure, the sealed live, safe and peaceful on Sion’s summit.

Behold, seven heavenly bodies lie in a straight line in the future. While it signals warnings to Earth. But too late comes the word ‘vacate’. In self-sufficiency, man has completely failed. Complaining of the pain, they now lie hungry, naked, and cold. Depressed in their languor, global depression is now becoming wide and big. Yes, with just the madness still working in their brains. Look, hope has waned, in a Christian-faith that would disappear overnight. While only the glowing flames of hell will shine upon the wicked.