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A top the summit, my eyes trace the mountainside

Gusts of rain and wind on torches, illuminating the night

A starless and blackened endeavor is my descent along the mountain

Taking heed to falling rain, knowing it well to be my last

Rope saturated with rain and sweat, abrading my wrists

With limbs dragged through entrails and bone

The people await me at the foot of the temple, each calling

Calling for my blood, to feed the earth

Mirrored statues preside over the foot of the temple,

Each bearing torch in hand

The flames engulfing my vision

Mictlan, Mictlan, My fate you have foreseen

Closer, Brighter, The mantra swells in fury

Obsidian grasped by darkness masked, the altar stands abhorring

Bound by rope, deafened by fear

The frigid stone greets my torso, as raw and biting as the wind

Alas, the eyes of the masses are upon me

To bestow the wrath of their bludgeoning sacrament

This vessel to feed the earth, plasma flowing through every channel

Trickling through the temple, to saturate the soil for eternity

Closer, Brighter, The mantra swells in fury

Obsidian grasped by darkness masked, the altar stands abhorring

Bound by rope, deafened by fear

The frigid stone greets my torso, as raw and biting as the wind

A great energy surrounds the temple, imbuing its essence within the stone

Aura growing, rainfall deafening, the equilibrium shifts

Accept this sacrifice upon our people, atop our highest peak