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Such a glorious sight

To see those servants

With broken bones, arteries open

Buried under the rubble of the fallen temple

Human structure now liberated

From the chains of form

Becoming more of the likeness

Of primal mother

This tells of his nature

With plain words

And without a need

For a mediator

Still the problem remains

As does his image

Turning the blind eye

To flee from the horror

Of the god cloaked with the night