Amalgam
Construction of the tower of Dis
The Fallen Host:
The pit ! It breaths! revive!
Bronchial! grow limbs! augment!
Life! endure! enamor!
Life! endure! enamor!
Ghost flesh, mortar truth.
Scaffold built of dust coalescent,
substance formed of our own volition.
let the rings arrange! stone substratum!
The conical it lifts atop our diligence.
Crescent edifice, upon which stands our creed,
pile the sediment, enraptured sentiment
We the chisel, carve the lodestone.
We the pestle, empty receptacles.
Anvils chime out, clenched fists molten,
girders will smelt under caelum breath.
Granite serenade tolls with resonance.
The larynx of the earth, tintinabulate.
Cathedral serenade, nave reverberate
The commencement of the climb
Ever upwards so we will
with treaty in hand, our voices shrill.
Atop our beacon tower,
our countenance of spires.
Climb high with litany, make haste our mark indelible!
Our host forsaken!
Patriarch intolerable one should not rule over all.
Our host forsaken!
Reward our petulance, we will not go quietly.
Our host forsaken!
Hand over hand, ascension, we reach the summit of our rage.
Grey flanks,
seamless shards
incorporate, proliferate,
grow this pinnacle of stone,
our cold house, our exile home!
Dis; the city of the fallen, rose within the emptiness, upon the backs of the angelic host. The forges high with flame, each stone fashioned from the elements themselves, binding energies from the molecule up. At its centre a tower of immeasurable height, crystalline formations, ceaseless and incalculable. Lucifer began to climb, carrying with him his words, to find a mind capable of comprehension, of contemplating what was to be lost if his words went unheeded.
Construction of the tower of Dis
The Fallen Host:
The pit ! It breaths! revive!
Bronchial! grow limbs! augment!
Life! endure! enamor!
Life! endure! enamor!
Ghost flesh, mortar truth.
Scaffold built of dust coalescent,
substance formed of our own volition.
let the rings arrange! stone substratum!
The conical it lifts atop our diligence.
Crescent edifice, upon which stands our creed,
pile the sediment, enraptured sentiment
We the chisel, carve the lodestone.
We the pestle, empty receptacles.
Anvils chime out, clenched fists molten,
girders will smelt under caelum breath.
Granite serenade tolls with resonance.
The larynx of the earth, tintinabulate.
Cathedral serenade, nave reverberate
The commencement of the climb
Ever upwards so we will
with treaty in hand, our voices shrill.
Atop our beacon tower,
our countenance of spires.
Climb high with litany, make haste our mark indelible!
Our host forsaken!
Patriarch intolerable one should not rule over all.
Our host forsaken!
Reward our petulance, we will not go quietly.
Our host forsaken!
Hand over hand, ascension, we reach the summit of our rage.
Grey flanks,
seamless shards
incorporate, proliferate,
grow this pinnacle of stone,
our cold house, our exile home!
Dis; the city of the fallen, rose within the emptiness, upon the backs of the angelic host. The forges high with flame, each stone fashioned from the elements themselves, binding energies from the molecule up. At its centre a tower of immeasurable height, crystalline formations, ceaseless and incalculable. Lucifer began to climb, carrying with him his words, to find a mind capable of comprehension, of contemplating what was to be lost if his words went unheeded.