In a whorl of matter
Thunderous searing gusts of flame
Dance a black trench across the planet's face
A dry baptism
For a world made mute by thirst

There is only loss because we create
One should not mourn
That which hears its name sung
In tongues of fire and blisters and decay
When things reborn ascend in verdant shoots
The god of the two pylons
Falls prostrate and willing

Simpering Yhwh
Calling to be slain
Like a catamite starving for rut

“Even so will I break this people and this city
As one breaketh a potter's vessel
To never be made whole again
And they shall bury them till there be no place to bury.” - JER 11:19

Ferine, virile
The brute cordons
The swaying Christchild
In a lakeside wreath of rockrose
And sends up smoke in defiance
Curses boiling in the billows
To the cadence of bones
Cracking in the embers

All the world is Gehenna
It is our bodies that hang sizzling
From the daises of Tophet
It is our mouths which drip and crack
And herald the age of Hinnom

(וְאַתֶּ֖ם פְּר֣וּ וּרְב֑וּ שִׁרְצ֥וּ בָאָ֖רֶץ וּרְבוּ־בָֽהּ׃ ס - GEN 9:7)

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