บท 92: The Song Of Abaddon

On a wide lake covered by a gray fog on all side, a small row boat drifted on its shallow waves, blindly navigating the thick fog. A man stood up straight on the boat, cut the palm of his hand with a small knife and bled himself into the water.

He sang a song that had not been heard since the era of exodus as he sat back down and laid on his back, the boat rocking him on the waves like a crib. He sang the song of Abaddon, said to have come from the first contractors before the world took from them their last light.

 How bright burns the light

In a darkness that won't yield.

Your name we will praise

But the scars are hard to heal.

For what man once feared

Is now a tale as old as time.

I want to preach in your name

From the top of the highest mountain.

But what good is my word

For a king without a throne.

Seeing is believing, lord

I wish you would leave a sign.

It is not mercy we ask for