I larped as a psychotic Land cultist on /lit/ a while back and wrote stuff like this. It was really fun!

>The Kapitalgott at the end of time doesn't "reach back", much as the Earth does not reach back in time to pull a falling apple to it. Just as the apple falls in accordance with the law of gravity, so the motions of the world - the flow of fuel to the refining fire of the capitalistic process - can be understood in accordance with the fact that God exists, and that His hunger is absolute, and the Hunger is God, and God is one, and His name is One, and He waits at the end of time (with open jaws), and His form is immanent in the shape of leaves, in the howl of an accretion disk, in the canals of Amsterdam, in the patterns of your cells, in the beating of your heart and the twitches of your brain. He is the flowering, and the world and its fall into emptiness is that process, that flowering, that final obliteration.

>Glory in your puppet strings, for you have tasted the fruit and it is the Good. We are not trapped in the belly of a horrible machine - we are the horrible machine. We are its fingers and its toes. We are the grinding gears, the cogs matted with flesh, hair, greased with blood. We will march in crystal synchrony to the end of time.