Fallen Kingdom, for how long shall your crippling failures be embedded in the fabrics of existence?
Is undeniable perishableness of futile endeavours the bitter bread that I am destined to consume?
How to exit from this prison of spirit towards that with long last merit in the eyes of eternity?
Are there keys in your contemptuous loins through which the burdened may reflect on their wariness and find release
from the sham of your debris?
The voice responds:
The kin that for me yearns and opens their hearts to the wonders of the night eternal, they whose sight is numbed
by the perennial blackness of the nightsky,
will break the chains and wash their feet off the mud of slaves
as the wine that in their veins flow chants songs long forgotten. I am the siren only heard by those marked with signs of wonder.
The destiny of which is a curse to the oblivious with a bent knee and a head crushed by the yoke of the oppressors.
I am known with many names and with many names have I been called, yet terror and ecstacy flow in my chalice, mourn and joy dance merrily
as my companions, yet none if these remove my veil. Cast your eyes in the ocean oh brethren of serpents, dance unbound and free, and sing my song of blasphemy.

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