From Whence The Flesh We Conquer

Look from the bliss faith once created, in an enigma of ominous inessece,
that which nest in thy soul, lest it burn with the first eclipse,
iniquitous vernal equinox; the xul knows many passages.
His sear of scorched life will not turn away, but vanquish deities once divine; even in autumnal slumber the choirs cease to sing of praise to a godless world.
Let he who hold no power be gone.
In rage of equinoctial storms --
tragedy unbeknowst to the weakest emotion --
abandon from thy self to serve an unseen being
for what have you come?
Queen of the weeping heavens, a detestable allure smolders beyond the fading meridian.
Moon rise on the boiling sea,
at one with the bleeding spirit before me.