Monday, July 26, 2010

Namaste, You Child

Kneel, mortal.
Set your hands in prayer and savor my divinity; a 5,000 year old elemental has earned your humble servitude.
'In exchange for what?' you ask? What a bold boy you are. How does continued existence favor?
Good. But my pity for you has soured these last few seasons...rise. Partake of my flesh and be engulfed by the ghostly image I offer you. That crackling sensation is merely the sound of a couple millenniums waking deep inside. A wave of charred souls will wash your lungs of those childish questions and smear the fear from your stupid face.
Inhale. Yes.
Do you smell the civilizations, ancient and abandoned, preserved in the promise of my glory? Yes, just like Christmas. But this is no baptism by fire. My embers are original sin incarnate, dancing in front of your face like drunken satyrs.
Quest for my blessing.
Kiss the tip, my bones, my black apprentice. Over and over and over. It is a barren, burning teat for you to suckle from and learn the secrets of The Empty.
You have obeyed well, boy, and for that I set aside an empty shoulder amongst the mass-grave your worship has dug.

Now repeat this oath, and be welcomed into the volcanic realm of salvaged flavor:

Welcome, son.

No comments:

Post a Comment