And with your quill sting!
Don't mind the slow and rhythmic
Breath of the great Beast,
who's heart you've pierced
With the venomous ink
Dripped from your feathered fang!
You and I, brother, are a family
Of this great light, can't you see it?
You can't see it? It's the bright,
Shining truth we carry to
The pagans; darkened masses.
We are the trustees, stewards of
The gods: Mathematics and sensuality!
You and I, discovered in like fashion,
This great power! Like demigods of old,
We are made half-holy by this knowledge,
Precious to man. With lances
Of truths and breastplates of our
Self-righteousness, we impale!
Skewer the demagogues who sought gain.
We grasped this power like coal-miners,
Carved from dark earth, sooty
By our efforts. And like men,
Hold it in glory of our strength,
Take up your pen brother!
And wield that quill still!
Don't mind the quieter breath.
Like Achilles, in my rage
I rail against the falsehoods of men!
By my anger brought lowly
And writhing in the dust like
The ones I've slain, my soul quivers.
Sunk to the undergloom- one last truth:
Woe to the one whence judgement comes!
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