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Mare
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Nidrosian Moon Sabbat
Ah! How morbid the dance
Of spectres and phantoms
Carried by the wings of night
And their shadows
Macabre in the flickering light
Of the torch placed upon
The brow of our Idol
Whose image we adore
Praised be the blood
That fill our sacred kapala
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Laden with lunar energies
From the horned moon above
Whose rays illuminate our path
And charge the sigils
Carved into our altar
As keys of the Black Arts
(Poetry: HBM Azazil)
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