The Life Enchanted

We live the life enchanted.
They call us godless heathens,
starring at the void,
starring at the chains,
like the condemned stare at their remorse.

But we are not godless and our faith lends us direction.

What would do without its guidance?

Left to drown in a careless world, is that a greater fate?

No, static is our only chaos now. Controlled, imprisioned, cast away.

The glow brings us perfect blue order,
a field guide for our time.
To fuck, to fight, and to die, these are the tenets of our glorious new canon.

It is perfect because it breeds its own perfection.
Who are we to judge the machinations of Heaven?

Yet, they call us godless, but can only watch our salvation.

As we peel back the clouds and stare into the shadow of the sky.

WE WILL TRANSCEND.

Hail St. Cosby! The glow triumphant!
Hail St. Akira! The glow now dominant!
Hail St. Anderson! The glow ascendent!