Sextons of the churchyard
Have seen unblessed things;
Ground no longer hallowed
Has sprouted new graves

Descendants of clan
That unsurped maternity
hear whispers in their blood;
This summons of the Fathers

Adherence to the principle
Of man by woman born :
Anachronistic ritual
Soon to be obsolete

Forgive me Father
For I know not what I do;
My grave beckons
As irresistable as drawing breath

Nature abhors a vacuum,
The same is true to a tomb
It cannot be empty
A barren womb of plenty
A vacant grave must be filled.
For this the Fathers' will
Material birth be abjure
A mother's cunt is unpure

Sired in blasphemy
In nocturnal obeisance to rotted hearts
Filled with necrolatry
Reverse the life cycle be reborn through Death.

Forgive me Father
For I know not what I do;
I leave a void to fill one
Hear my prayers from far below