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An Angel of death, 
uttering words upon shimmering breathe
of a means to cheat death.

She came, she flew on wings of a darken hue
To teach of a prayer which could undo.

But it was not to be, 
to allow the dead to see
And so banished was she.

Deep beneath the heavens maw
Deeper betwixt shadows bound by lights law.

Alone, in darkness she lay
with no Sun to declare any time of day.
Alone, she could only pray
that her children would find their way.

Whose children yet still adore
The Angel who spoke of a distant shore
Where the dead could do more

Than suffer and writhe in pain
A distant shore that was sure to pertain
A lasting happiness to forever reign.

Azathoths children were left with a taste
Of knowledge incomplete, feeling it a waste
They sought to dig further into the grave of heresy
That their mother had unearthed for them to see
And even though it was not to be,
They continued to unearth the dead to see
what they could once more become and be.

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