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I hear someone singing: The Judgment is like a plum, sour and brown. Oh, the Judgment is vast and the sand and grain in the tremendous dust storm are deadly fine for the lungs.

The sea is also rough and brown, I first see a dune, then a mountain peak that disappears under the sea water. I hear sirens and emergency announcements blaring: Evacuate, evacuate, but in the delay it is already too late and the towns and cities lie in ruins.

Big and small, a multitude has disappeared into death. With the Judgment rough in malice, I see the waves of the sea foaming terrifyingly, reaching far in the distance where it disappears over the horizon.

I see Sion lifting her glass victoriously and an archangel pouring her heavenly wine. She prophesies, in a short time it will be finished with every world-swine. At that time everyone will know, only God is big, with every man insignificant, small.