“Who thinks tempests dance too quickly?”
Asked the Master, moustache thickly
Brimming, bristling with indignation,
“Consign the lepers to damnation!
None may tarry here who can’t
Wield a terror so puissant
That all the diseased vermin flee
In the dread face of its potency.”
“Strong winds, blizzards, thunder, hail,
Are no friends to those who flail
Helpless in the face of woe,
We conquer both friend and foe.
Judge us, lowlies, if it please thee
If judgement thus doth appease thee
Where we stand you cannot reach
Stagnate below and empty preach!”
“Revel, rejoice, let the wine flow
Face undaunted the Inferno,
What fear could Hell bring to us?
We are the children of Dionysus!
Dance like a newly birthed star
Be not neighbours, rather fly afar;
Dig deep within yourselves, then tell
The frail ones of the depth of your well.”
“This land our Paradise is, embodiment of majesty
We will not stoop to vulgar bliss, death is not a travesty
We fear not teetering upon this peril-fraught precipice
On the edge is our Eden, and beyond is the abyss!
We are the madmen who claim our time is not yet come
Let the naïve seek their fame, we will allow them martyrdom
Flourish, men of fortitude, we need neither aid nor succour
We are Nature’s objective, the weak are a mere detour.”