Serpents - The Virtuous Remliel

Assimilate: Gloom.
Ingest: Apathy.
Fathom: Filth.
This calamity is called modern existence.
Years wither in a self induced haze.
Yet generations mourn what was never theirs, life.
Seasons spent in severance of sentiment.
The hammer now falls on this naive society.
In contempt, they are torn asunder by lions.
Bathe in thy blood.
Bathe in thy salt.
Each step taken (trudging over carrion),
servants gaze upon exotic form.
The embodiment of sacred loin,
has fallen unto you.
In torment and awe. (a feeling so obscure),
Generation after generation, conduct a symphony to thine ears.
(As each tooth repeatedly pierces the flesh, you now know what it is to be alive...)
To fear, to love, to live; Realization hath come crashing down at the eleventh hour.
A new found grace cultivates among the numb.
Look to the azure.
Admire thy heavens.
Inquire unto darkness...into desolation.
The Utopian response is bleak.
"A cold unknown", a premonition of what's to come.
Ages spent dwelling in the stars, only to soon be matter themselves.
As it is above, it is now below.
This is no work of the cozen.
In blood.
In flame.
A new era is born, a dystopia to be.
to tremble substructure of creation.
to rattle authority of man.
the eternal awakening to be.