From dawn to dusk the early musk perfumes the moorish air
The she-cat’s cries before she dies pierced Bodmin with despair.
Thus will we know in twilight’s glow that death doth creep behind us
Encoded once neath scorching suns a rune untouched by kindness.
We’ll moan and bawl while wormed beasts crawl upon their bellies fair
The wasteland witch with cursed switch will damnably declare,
“Woe to he with sovereignty not preordained by Gaia;
The human race and populace shall meet their deific slayer!”
January 10, 2007