Having felt inspired, I wrote a poem on Suffering, and felt the need to
share it. I am no poet by nature, so please excuse my obvious lack of
talent.

The Anointed

For this hour, of this day, you will be pure
Bound and lifted, they will carry you
How you will plead, how you will promise
But what Truths you will see!
And we can not deny you that

Your weeping form laid upon the altar
Let us show you the path to your Salvation
Born of blood and pain, of bone and Suffering
How you scream, how you beg
But we will purify you still

Fingers broken, one by one
Every muscle, every ligament, every vein
Will be consecrated by the lash, by the blade
Sanctified by fire, made holy by the rack
Baptised by your clarion screams

"Abiuro!" You swear to us!
How repentant you are, how inspired!
And, you will beseech Thoth, Himself
As we tear your skin from off the bone
As your body weeps in sanguineous hues

Kneel for Him, and know despair
Open your sightless eyes and lament!
He has brought you to us
A gift, a treasure, soiled as you are
And we will honour him with your cleansing

Yes, pray to Him!
Swear that you believe
And Suffering will envelop you
Oh, blessed of Lord Apollyon
Your agony has just begun


Vicar Cypra Lichlord

Penned by my hand on the 20th of Scarlatan, in the year 408 AF.