---

For twenty days of nightfall, our people have suffered endlessly

Their bones tremble, tremble upon the graves of their sons

Where the once mighty river flowed clear and prosperous

A parasitic channel pervades, feasting on the buried

Turned to the gods, their will to appease

Pleading without avail for the sun to answer

To answer the dying valley, devoured by turmoil

Long since eclipsed by the mountains, the village is cast into nothingness

Amassed at the temple, auto-sacrifice commences

Daughters ushered from their shelter, tearing for escape

Cast to the foot of the temple, their veins reluctant

To beckon for the light, to obey the divine

Each bled and butchered to a revolting pulp

Where tissue met neither blade nor spear

Jagged boulders served as their final burial

Littered with bones, stretching beyond light’s grasp

The exiled, the widower, demanded is his presence

Enter he whose spirit shall summon the sun