A rotting, putrid land,
Frail as venous clay
I sever my thin mass
From Earth's devoted prey.
Hircus-tongue, seize the fire,
Beneath a graying twilight,
To deport this rank humankind,
Into a wintry, aphotic sky.
In chronic irreverence,
This sworn, malignant rite
Churned the lord's sanctum
Into a lidless night.
A spherical glow
Begot the decadent purge
Of a captive fall of lambs;
The shriek of Heaven's
Celestial dirge.
Devour the flesh of God,
Afloat the crimson sod.
The Ritual brought no repose.
For naught but smoke and mist arose;
Though consumed by dreams I saw -
Horned and hooved the wicked He Goat
His loom roared sinful in effigy;
I sank, wailed, as glottal
Words were shorn
From his tongue I, dismal, fell
With rapt fear, as though snarled by
A soulless, callous, abysmal wind.
