Sextons of the churchyard
Have seen unblessed things;
Ground no longer hallowed
Has sprouted new graves.
Descendants of clan
That unsurped maternity
hear whispers in their blood;
This summons of the Fathers.
Adherence to the principle
Of «man by woman born»…
Anachronistic ritual
Soon to be obsolete.
«Forgive me Father
For I know not what I do;
My grave beckons
As irresistable as drawing breath.»
Nature abhors a vacuum,
The same is true to a tomb…
It cannot be empty.
A barren womb of plenty…
A vacant grave must be filled.
For this the Fathers’ will,
Material birth be abjure,
A mother’s cunt is unpure.
Sired in blasphemy,
In nocturnal obeisance to rotted hearts
Filled with necrolatry
Reverse the life cycle be reborn through Death.
«Forgive me Father
For I know not what I do;
I leave a void to fill one,
Hear my prayers from far below.»