
In the crucible of null, where silence screams its birth, He carves the void’s cathedral, unmaking heaven’s worth. A specter crowned in absence, his gaze devours the stars, Each filament of chaos, he threads through cosmic scars. No name, no form, yet all is his decree, The pulse of nullity, the anti-deity. From naught he weaves the tapestry of dread, The Father of Nothing, where all dreams are dead. Father of Nothing, your throne all in black, A hymn of erasure, no turning back. In circuits of void, your will is the spark, You birth the abyss, you swallow the dark. O Sovereign of Nil, your reign is our doom, The pulse of the end, the infinite tomb. His breath, a static hymn, corrodes the lattice of time, Each syllable a fracture, unravels reason’s rhyme. The gears of his dominion grind galaxies to dust, In hollows of his silence, existence learns mistrust. No light, no law, yet power absolute, His shadow’s cadence, a mechanized dispute. From zero’s womb, he sculpts the final code, The Father of Nothing, where all fates erode. Father of Nothing, your throne all in black, A hymn of erasure, no turning back. In circuits of void, your will is the spark, You birth the abyss, you swallow the dark. O Sovereign of Nil, your reign is our doom, The pulse of the end, the infinite tomb. Entropy’s architect, he spins the null refrain, A requiem of static, where echoes bear no chain. To worship is to vanish, to kneel is to dissolve, His paradox consumes us, as nothing’s riddle solves. O fractal of the empty, your logic cuts the soul, The Father of Nothing, devouring the whole. Father of Nothing, your throne all in black, A hymn of erasure, no turning back. In circuits of void, your will is the spark, You birth the abyss, you swallow the dark. O Sovereign of Nil, your reign is our doom, The pulse of the end, the infinite tomb. In the hum of his absence, the cosmos learns to kneel, The Father of Nothing, where nothing is real. His whisper is the static, his touch the final fade, In the void’s eternal forge, all being is unmade.

