The Ritual
Part II - The Incantation

As I now speak the words
they whisper in my ear..
the world corporeal,
which I once held
so near and dear..
I vow now to forsake.
So that The Elder Gods
may deem me worthy
to receive The Voice..
The Voice
by means of which
I may now speak..
The speech
by means of which
I may create..
New truths,
new patterns..
stitched upon
the tapestry
of fates.

With every prayer
I now chant
I am brought closer
to their vision,
as prophetic as a revelation
and as old as time.
I am naught more
than but a vessel
meant to hold their will..
their living shrine.

Until the blood
within my veins and arteries
grows just as cold
as frigid winds
of late December.
Until my hardened
myocardium
grows just as still..
as it was,
once upon a time..
so innocent and tender.

Until my
many fruits of labor
may at last be reaped
by sharpened sickle
of The Fifth One..
known as Death.
She cometh ever closer..
I can feel her presence
in my heart
as it is drumming madly
in my chest.
I feel it beating faster still..
it’s synchronizing
to the echoes
of her every footstep.

And then I feel
her chilling breath
upon my neck..
And then at last..
cometh The End.
Her lips upon my own..
The Kiss of Death.