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.