Greetings to my brother, Michael, who should not have invoked the name of her who suffered most greatly when man destroyed the flesh of her Son on the infamous tree—for her name is more than I can bear:

You should not have written of Mary to me, that most Blessed of Women, Blessed of Mothers, in these final hours of Terra, for all that she endured as human flesh has been in vain, and all that her Son endured has come to nothing but mockery.

Useless have been her warnings and her tears, and her love for her fellowman, as useless as the Sacrifice of her Son. Her name, and His, are coupled in contempt among men, and for that alone I would destroy Terra. Her Motherhood is derided, her purity impugned. If she weeps, I weep with her, though not for the same reason!

I have seen her often lately, moving over the hideous face of Terra, sighing with maternal sorrow, praying that her children will understand before time has run out for them. But her prayers, too, are in vain. There are times when I would pray that they are not in vain! But that is too much to expect of men.

Farewell, Michael. Our Dialogue has come to an end, for there is no necessity for it any longer. Say my farewell also to Our Father, and kiss my brothers on their cheeks, for it is my final kiss.

Dear Michael, I who am about to fall forever, salute you.

Your brother, Lucifer