Panegyrist - To Quicken Stone

Was ever sacred fire within these halls,
Or mere ghostcandle, ignis fatuus?
A temple turned sepulcher,
Marmoreal and self-become!
A fool's edifice unto smoke-scattered divinity!
Was ever truth quick amid the coals?

Ἰδοὺ τίθημι ἐν Σιὼν λίθον προσκόμματος
Kαὶ πέτραν σκανδάλου·

Decriers --
Their dictum echoes in atria
To fracture quaint remembrance.
They set it all down as naught,
They set it all down as naught --
Naught but the ponderous slough
From whence the gnosis slithered,
Slithered forth in shining, new scales.

Visita Interiore Templis, Rectificatus Inveniat Occultum Lapidae.

Enter amid the chanting stone,
Whose murmuring corridors are holy ground.
Red Horeb burns with fire
Yet is not consumed.
A presence is here,
And a multitude.

Silencers, do you stop your ears?
The stones become a dread chorus,
Seed of faith's patriarch, raised of the very rock.
And spiritwoven in igneous union,
Rise as living stonework, a priesthood ascendant.

May our voices harrow you
That you should never forget.
With burning syllables
Mark we thee witness
Henceforth unto death.