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