The Sacrament of Blood and Ash - Baptism

To the teeth of the silver lion

The lamb has willingly bared its throat

A husk of mud shall turn into dust

Cast off shall be the profane robe

In the fiery belly of the iron lion

The corpse of the lamb will burn

Until the remains of this offering

Float out from the bellowing urn

A pool of blood

Becomes a crimson sea

And thus a smouldering seed

Grows into a flaming tree

The age-old lie of shielding feather wings

Overthrown by the reality of forked tongues

And a torch lit between the horns

The image in the obsidian mirror

Shows a newly-risen luminous man

Standing within a circle of warm ash

With his foot upon the skull of the lamb

Like a depthless ocean is the awakened soul

Yet not an infinity abyss of darkness

But one embracing a single sun

A pool of blood

Becomes a crimson sea

And thus a smouldering seed

Grows into a flaming tree