VIII. Infinite Ceremony

Sink below closed eyes The vow is wasted on mimicked life This ritual is not a visual Bear Witness: We may mark the mines for Lapis The hidden roots for Chanterelle But The Carmine Trail of mud and blood Leads to Infinite Altar Offer the totems Each trinket and Golem Every stacked body and burial mound Gutted and scraped of the last of the maggots Beetled clean, bleached in the sun We proffer not just confession, but grimoires and fire The dyed meal we feast on, of forefallen authors Sima, beloved, we offer the promise To sculpt for The Kiln and dance forth another Exit bare in hand, this Diorama The Game is about to begin