Famished for Breath

Thou shalt precipitate History,

those days of yonder,

and the solemn roots of the human race

into the furnace fraught with fire unquenchable.

The names of all things thou shalt feed

to the undying worm

and rejoice at the mumblings of a once potent tongue.

The haughty strides of Time thou shalt put to halt

and mangle Past and Future with ghastly wounds.

While for these deeds thou hast

borne universal reproach,

laugh at their vain designs, for scarce the sun hath

finished his journey, nothing remains but

the dread tribunal of an everlasting Present.

Forge a bond in glowing iron the manacle

Faith with raging Madness, another

reeking of nitre, to chain Truth with Fear.

Lo and behold, the first of many harvests

of corpses is thine!

Famished for breath,

an angular neck and eyes aghast,

the effulgence of Horror in this New World

is without peers.

Thou shalt celebrate the conception and rise

of the New Man, to whom all he eats or drinks

is propagated malediction,

a Man pregnant with infernal flame,

standing on the devastation

of all things past.