In a word-game that begins with guess-guess, under the onslaught of the ax, the big Christian-cedar lay mutilated, betrayed and all that is left, is just a very tiny, dwarfed bonsai.  

But a tiny mustard seed has already been sown and the gigantic abomination-mountain is already being blown into the sea, pebble by pebble and sand grain by sand grain. So, let the cock now keep on crowing while all the churches are frying in their own fat.

Look, the very last page has already been turned and the fields have been sown with thorns and thistles. But down under in Africa, in a peaceful bay, a friendly dolphin begins to circle restlessly, uneasily. Look, this noble fish suddenly and unexpectedly tears apart a bloodthirsty man-eating shark.

On the beach a beautiful little girl plays while the wind joyfully blows through Sion’s hair. Worldwide all the rifles are now loaded and ready and winds of war begin to blow wildly. The West now wants to reap Africa’s hidden riches as its own. But the East bellows: You are now mingling in my affairs!

With nowhere a prince of peace trying to halt or console, there is no path that will turn back to peace. In the word-game, the letters of the words are now lying wildly blown around.

Under the fall of the ax, all the world-religion-cedars are now lying knocked down, betrayed by themselves. While destructive flames are blazing through their dry branches. Someone calls: Oh look, the tiny bonsai is now also lying in just a tiny heap of ash.

While a messenger calls: Let the wind now also blow away the memory thereof completely because the tiny mustard seed has already been sown successfully. Yes, so that the Perfect Wind, in True Spiritual Faith, can blow through the branches of the enormous Melchizedek tree.