The soundless cities are nearing,
There is no need for hearing.
Speak what we have spoken:
There are gods, but they are broken.
The little leanings of our lords
Upon their righteous swords
Impale veins of ancient ardors
Where their foul fluid has harbored.
And this is how the blood runs
And this is why the blood runs
Upon the paths of ardor.
Nathan Woods, editor/overlord