Introduction. I, PETRUS ROMANUS. A documented fiction

Around mid-December 2019, before the pandemic, I dreamed that a conflagration caused by the sun's heat melted entire areas of the planet.

With my wife we ​​ascended to a plane that raised us above other countries.

At first no one noticed us, but when they saw us safe in the midst of droughts, wars, tornadoes and tidal waves, they turned their faces towards us, and whole crowds asked us to pick them up.

In the light of my past I know that the ship symbolizes the wisdom in this book briefly contained, the one that throughout my life has allowed me to survive in the midst of the hurricane of the beast 666 (hate -money-, megalomania -power-, and vanity -fame-).

The conflagration caused by this three-headed beast, best written in the Apocalypse of Saint John, is the one that really hits the world.

I correct this manuscript altered by the vaults of the Vatican, those that at the beginning of September of this year I also confronted and defeated in a Rome that is already crumbling through these pages.

The Lord revealed to me on September 7 that I am the reincarnation of Peter the Roman, the last vicar of his church, prey to persecution, as I sing in the ninth poem of KING OF KINGS:

CANTO NINTH

My faith is from my beginnings In another life I was Peter the apostle The one who denied Jesus thrice By Gehovah! There won't be a fourth time!

Look what they have done to my Church! It was in 2013 that the Lord, crying, told me the Pope no longer believed in God So he sent me to Pittsburgh to announce it

Ratzinger had the nobility to resign To protect his people to the wrath of God But he took refuge in a masquerade Haven't you read that God sees everything?

The seven hills of Rome will fall Before the terrible Judgment of the righteous The one they thought to defeat with lies With perversities, all buried today

For over eleven years I have quietly endured with my flock, the good-hearted righteous men and women, those who refuse to kill, even in self-defense.

Brief, almost involuntary, autobiography of a man governed by love and kindness in all circles of the world.

For love and goodness are the stuff from which gods are made: Shiva, Messiah, Buddha, Confucius, Jean D'Arc, Baruch de Espinoza, José -the one his brothers sold-, Kali and all gods and saints of good intentions.

For whoever approaches God, like God, is everything, and whoever distances himself from him is reduced to his ego and the sufferings that solitude causes, so sharply highlighted by Martin Heidegger and Jean Paul Sartre in their writings.

Like Lot, the Lord tells me, I am the righteous slapped seventy-seven times seven, the prophet that keeps the world at distance from annihilation.

Like Job, the Lord tells me, I am the just man slapped seventy-seven times seven, who sustains a free literary and cinematographic work, without fear, of universal certainties.

Those who attacked me have already been, are or will be destroyed.

For decades I have begged the Lord to contain his anger, but he will not do it anymore for the welfare of the world.

I am the prophet anointed by Jesus, King of Kings, The Terrible Judge of quick and dead, to proclaim the Kingdom of Heaven, with a single and endless community of equal children of God.