Azriel Azathoth

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.