The fates long ago gave me a warning concerning this measure of hubris
I wished I had heeded their wisdom
My form should not be eternal for everything will in time
Be delivered to the house of those who wallow below
In their infinite despair and wretchedness
Long have I endured the curse of this mortal coil
Skulking about this earthen realm in a hedonistic stupor as mine own flesh
Was smeared with the stately pallor of those touched by time
I am composed as those who hath staved off the inevitable with
Fires engendering the hollow smoke of the realms so which we preside
It is thine only wish that material conquests
Should so remain as stolidly as the stones
That bind this cracked facade of purpose together
Whilst we strip this fragile shell away
For these lands that manifest rivers of crimson
From the weak are of no consequence to us
Those with true revsolve have become
Symbols of our aspirations
Whilst men like myself are cast into perdition
With nothing but our deeds laid bare
To be placed upon the Altar of our reckoning
For He does not listen
And it has fallen upon his children to be
The Judges, Juries, and Executioners
In the House of Final Revelations
It is with this premonition I leave you
As even now my body drips from my bones to the stones below
And there is much you must find for
Yourself
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