The soil is weak and saturated from beneath The shadow of giants who eclipse the light on which it feeds. The sacrifices arenʼt enough, but still they never cease, For in the spilling of their blood is birthed a seed. The Earth has hungered for too longa It swallows all we give, no thought for what belongs. New roots take hold with the same complacency As their ancestors, the still and rotting trees. Resigned to watch the world pass them by As their leaves wither, as their branches die. The death of this season hangs heavy in their shade, The birth of the next a debt to never be repaid. We thirst for all that will allow us to grow, Our appetites overshadowing all weʼve come to know. The ground is giving from beneath the weight Of every parasite whose roots lie in its grave. Our blood is not enough that their thirst it could sate, And all that calls the Earth its home will die someday. Those from the times before we were conceived Still rot among us, feeding us their energy. We are sustained by all that makes you weak, Closing the cycle as, upon itself, it feeds. My shadow is cast over all that you can see, And when I die then, too, will your blasphemy. A feral god of my own imagining, Your reality runs down my chin from gnashing teeth. I am the fear that fuels your own desire to live, To further my creation with all it has to give. My betrayal of all that, through me, exists Will define the standard for what it means to sin. I am the end, I am where it all begins, The embodiment of all past lives relived. My betrayal of all that, through me, exists Will define the standard for what it means to sin. I am resigned to watch the world around me die As my leaves wither, as my branches die.

Each bated breath is frozen in time amid the frost Beneath the moonlight that guides the lost. Each cloud an effigy of fears never expelled, Hung in the air like shrines to glorify the unknown. The gods to which we bow are the ones who already fell, Hung by the noose of shortcomings that were their own. Guided by malnutrition known to us since our birth, We race the rising sun to where the light breaks first. We are the offspring of a masochistic Mother Earth, Resigned always to hunger, always to thirst. Whether our sustenance is found in man or child, It never seems to be enough. We accept each gift granted to us by the wild, This indifferent world abandoned by the just. The memory of their flesh impressed upon our minds, We seek only to fill the emptiness on which we thrive. Each carcass a frail recollection of the swell Of famine in the stomachs of those who survive, The instinct to which they bend is one thatʼs served them well, Strung since birth through the threads of their minds. The snow falls red atop our feast before it hits the ground, Drifting without an aim to fulfilled purpose without a sound. Guided by malnutrition known to us since our birth, We race the rising sun to where the light breaks first. We are the offspring of a masochistic Mother Earth, Resigned always to hunger, always to thirst. We are the shepherds of a world set to consume The parts of itself that fight for life beneath a sinking moon.

The steps ahead lie underfoot so precariously Beneath the cover of the worldʼs furthest-sunken dreams. Tracks tracing circles back into the same forgotten trees, Wanderers who follow the footsteps finding famine and disease. I am awake, but still this truth I cannot see As, through the darkness, death will find the path I seek. The weakest-willed are scattered in the starlightʼs wake, Tithing the pieces of themselves back to where they came. From dust to dust, their sacrifice will light my way As, in the filthiest corners of this world, they lie in wait. Backs broken underneath the weight of the free, Wanderers who walk between this place and reality. I am awake, but still captive to this dream As, through the darkness, I will find the truth I seek. The withered womb of an empty sky has opened overhead To spill its last descendants forth before, at last, itʼs dead. The seeds were planted long before she fell in two Before the audience of those who saw it through. They choke upon the fruits of that forsaken womb, Forever left to hunger in the dark theyʼre born into. The roots were wrapped around their necks before they met the air Before the choice to live or die was theirs, Before the healing of the world as, around them, it would tear And cast them in the valleys of their forefathersʼ heirs. They choke upon the fruits of that forsaken womb, Digging through the soil that they may be entombed. A tired echo of the same fathers to sacrifice The sons to whom they had given the burden of life. They cannot see the world beyond the moment when they die, The meaning of the choices made while they were alive. The seeds were planted long before she fell in two Before the audience of those who saw it through. They choke upon the fruits of that forsaken womb, Forever left to hunger in the dark theyʼre born into.

The oceans cower and churn amid each willful stroke That brings him closer to where his betrayers call their home. Foul creature, bastard spawn of every one of those Who, in their avarice, would cast the world into its death throes. A child of hatred, of power unchecked Now poised to kill the kings to whom his life was in debt. The years would see him grow beyond the cage where he was kept, Nourished by every stain which, on their legacies, his fathers left. Leviathan, creation of greed, Devourer of all that lies in your path, We dread the days when youʼre finally free That we would fall beneath your wrath. So much to consume, so much to eat In a world so alive, a world so vast. The Earth trembled beneath each baleful step Towards the places where, while he awoke, the traitors slept, Never prepared to face an answer to the countless deaths To which their thirst for power had now finally lead. Still, they saw their own reflections glisten in the red As they drank of the essence of the ones now at rest. With every breath, he inhales the nations, Swallowing whole all of this dubious creation. Without intent to single out those who made him, He razes to the ground every place that could contain them. The world around you will burn at the whisper of greed, Forever condemned to writhe beneath his marching feet; The embodiment of our kingsʼ disdain and their apathy Now leaving only ash of all the worlds on which it feeds. A hollow shell of all that it used to be, The surface of a glassed planet would forever gleam Throughout the empty space for its travelers to see As, below the other worldsʼ fires, it was left to sink. Leviathan, creation of greed, Devourer of all that lies in your path, We dread the days when youʼre finally free That we would fall beneath your wrath. So much to consume, so much to eat In a world so alive, a world so vast. The Earth withered beneath each hurried stride Towards the places where, as he was born, traitors would die, Never prepared to face the weight of the countless lives Which their thirst for power had claimed over time. Still, they saw their own reflections inside The desecrated figures of the ones who denied The fabricated reach established by the bloodlines Of mortals praised as gods by those who seek the divine.

A tyrant hides within the skulls of the enslaved, Prepared to bring atonement to the kings that they create; So will be free what was concealed as they all break, Burning the bridges that, with their own bones, were paved. Until their time has come, the fear will weigh upon each soul Sealing the cracks that form in the foundations of their lords. Now, through reduction, their desires will be whole As memories of paradise fade and devotion is restored. Like moths to flame, the only comfort they will see Will stem from the very threats to the safety they all seek. Tired distractions keep them scattered, keep them weak, As, on their wearied flesh, the monster they create will feed. Head bowed and mouth agape, Eyes set on an empty sky, It feeds on fear and faith While all who pray will die. The congregation tithes in flesh beneath the light Cast by the morning star as, every day, they must arise. With offering plates filled so thoroughly each time, Itʼs still never enough to keep their dreams of death alive. A silence hides within the chorus of the congregants Prepared to offer their own voices to what keeps them still; So will be stifled the dissent of free thoughtʼs remnants, Spurning the knowledge of those with the strongest will. Until their time has come, the fear will weigh upon each soul Sealing the cracks in the foundation of their deathʼs reward. Now, through submission, all that glitters will be gold As memories of autonomy fade and faith is restored. Head bowed and mouth agape, Eyes set on an empty sky, They feed on fear and faith While all they worship dies.