The World to him, who sings my song,
for I am the Font, the Spirit of the Deepest Deep,
and mine is the first heart to beat your blood.
The World to him, who sings my song.
I, Imimorul, fled the Heavens,
so much did I love the brooks that chirrup,
the high mountains that hiss,
the myriads that bolt through this blessed hair,
The World to him, who raises up rooves in the Deep.
I, Imimorul, did flee the Starving [sky], so much did I fear the Heavens,
the wrath of those who were wroth, who would forbid my love,
of the myriads of the World.
The World to her, who kindles her fire in the Deep.
I, Imimorul, did cut from my hand my fingers,
and from my arm, my hand, and from my body, my arm,
and these pieces of me I did place in the wombs of Lions,
so that I might dwell content in my own company.
And I became One-Armed, Imimorul, the Unshielded.
And you were as children to me,
the form of Gods as the issue of Lions, sons who would father nations,
and daughters who would mother the myriads of the World.
And I sang to you such songs as are only heard in the highest of Heavens, and nowhere in the Hells.
We did weep together, as we sang, for woe cares not for names or glory only that skin blackens for bruising, breaks for blood.
The World to him, who sings my song.
The World to him, who finds me in the Deep.
The World to him, and woe.
Bakker, R. Scott. The Unholy Consult: Book Four of the Aspect-Emperor series (Aspect Emperor 4) (Kindle Locations 10786-10792). Little, Brown Book Group. Kindle Edition.
Thoughts?