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