A Halloween Tale

Saints and martyrs forgotten long

trumpets sound to the jury.

Have we none but what we leave upon this land

and to what we leave behind?

We shall read the doctrine

To that which we long have left maligned.

Come, O luckless brethren

How you have fallen.

You cannot heal me now

I cannot receive your prayers.

That you knew me in the last

Has no meaning here.

Chant while breathless

Speak with lust.

Never utter the word that we both knew

That shall be ours.

And we shall have the world again

When it returns to us.