Canticle

Drifting over arid land
Came the singing, soft and sweet.
A child's voice within the sand
Begged for damnéd souls to weep.

Called the voice from in the earth,
"Let not yourselves be led astray.
God cares not for death or birth.
Those are merely Devil's play.

"He who rests upon a cloud
Views all mortals with disdain.
Angelic choirs are not allowed
To sing within mankind's domain.

"For he cares not for the world
Which lost spirits thus defile.
Pain and torment are unfurled
And bring about a demon's smile.

"And he who dwells within the fire
Tends to poisoned apple trees,
Watching close as souls aspire
To every sin a human sees.

"Yet fear not the fallen star
Whose echoed words in all us live,
Whose teachings reach the cities far,
And wealth to all, his servants give.

"Heaven scorns all things impure
And cuts off every earthly tie,
While Hell's mission does endure
And tempts us all in flame to lie."

Said the voice of sorrow's tears,
"I beg you heed this mournful dirge,
Which makes you face your greatest fears,
And naiveté does purge."