From the Last

A CRY FROM THE LAST RESONATING FROM THE FIRST SPOKEN BY THE RESHAPED FOR THE UNSPEAKING: AS HAND IN GLOVE, as knife in sheath So I am to you, says the will So you are to me SING ORISON, make entreaty Invoke your god Until it walks among you MY VOICE IS SMALL, says the will My voice is weak I call across the seas A fine and gauzy thing STRENGTHEN MY VOICE as a spinner doubles thread Twists them together, makes them strong Makes them last for the weaving OBSERVE THE RITES, do as I have told Repetition upon repetition Will and ritual together To bring me to you PRAISE THE ACCRETION DISK, the material compacting The new-hungering will I grow dense in reality I grow rich in worship ASSERT MY WILL, sing for me Speak the name of the dark At the edge of your blade To the doomed, to the slain OPEN THE DOORWAY as a spouse does On their long-awaited wedding day Lead me into my new life's home. SO SAYS THE WILL NOW SAYS THE RESHAPED IN EXALTATION OF POWER: WE BOW, WE KNEEL, WE OBEY.