The shadow of the winged figure is cast upon the stones of the courtyard below the cathedral tower.
through the rose window, dark lightning.
a cold flame, which consumes the light, burns above black candles.
the names written on the floor stones increase, one by one, carved with an unseen chisel, wielded by the hand of glory.
the voiceless one speaks before the altar.
the other holds the sacred knife to the throat of the one who holds the chalice.
the blood of the innocents wells up through the stones of the courtyard.
the tip of the blade pierces the skin of the chalice holder
the chalice overflows ink black blood
the robed ones now move swiftly forward,
fall on their hands and knees below the altar
to lap up like thirsty dogs
the black blood which flows down the stair
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