Epistle X - My Ember Whip

(I) If thou be in pursuit of the despised arsonist, verily, you have encountered him in the flesh, (II) I am the incendiary renegade, the ember incarnate who birthed the conflagration that devoured the rogue bethel - the sanctuary for goddess worship, the haven for ruffians of the darkest dye (III) The full fruitage of my flame’s fiesta infused sweetness into gynolatry's gall each lash of my smoldering ember whip flogging the foul incense left behind by the squealing swine that indolently lingered around to worship ivory busts glossed in wax (IV) For they were like humming honey bees that tarry around the honeycomb, toiling for nectar before freefalling in obeisance to their vixen, their eyes howling death’s Locrian melody every waking hour (V) Lo! sovereignty gushed forth as the searing sienna wall of eucharistic waves that melted the metallic shackles of the male concubines, who now crawl through wreckage’s open womb amidst newfound exaltation