Bring your flames, your fires, your tottering pyres;
your desultory words and pitiable ire.
Chaos was, is, and will be -
Writ large in the Mythos for all to see.

Paradise, you cry, a collar and chain,
yoked to Twinned service, you claim to abstain.
The drive of Creation, the Logos decree,
Chaos the power, behind all you see.

Come little child, harken and hear.
Change what you are, absolve your own fear.
Leave no illusions, remove your own flaws,
revel in this truth, stop your hemming and haws.

Penned by my hand on the 24th of Valnuary, in the year 970 AF.