---

They place a candle

At the altar's core-

The flame burns white,

The shadows crawl

The first one to approach is

Akin to a serpent, robed;

Its tongue slices the very air

With each and every word intoned

They call it "mistress"

They call it "lord"

Its voice is like silk

Its words make skin melt

The second to approach is

A wire-frame at most;

Flesh strands hang like tapestry,

Its eyes devoid of soul

It is a thing of beauty-

I cannot contain my thoughts.

To me it is bliss and piety:

A fragment of my god

The third was never mortal-

Therefore he cannot die.

Unborn in ancient ritual,

He looks me in the eye

I am drawn towards him

As are we all

We call him "master"

We call him "god"

I see my friends are weeping-

I take a step and fall.

Tonight I am the chosen-

I wallow in his love

Heave once… twice…

My father's right upon me;

The left is raised above