Where the Grey Horse grotesquely rises onto its hind legs, with death, its rider, clothed in crepe, black and grey, pointing the way to the next judgment. Look, in his one hand he is holding a sickle and in his other hand solid proof. On his back, he is carrying a rusted iron cross.

On the crossbeam thereof, it is written in capital letters: LARGE PARTS OF AFRICA AND ASIA WILL SOON BE CRUSHED. Over the wall of a big dam wall with a stuck, rusted sluice, stormy waters will roar one more time. Yes, before the big drought will unexpectedly crisscross these continents.

In this period, the great famine victoriously lifts its fist and under its onslaught, man as well as mouse will die. Death grins because there is no government that will be able to avoid or unravel these crises.

Where the Grey Horse grotesquely rises into the sky onto its hind legs, with death, its rider, clothed in crepe, black and grey. There the riding horse of death bellows in the roar of hooves. Its rider grins because the earth shakes and trembles under the tremendous onslaught of Elohim’s Fist.

So listen to the tidal waves of tsunamis roaring across continents and look at all the country flags hanging half-mast. See the Grey Horse on its hind legs, already pointing the way to the next Judgment.