Hold close the dark, one's shadow, a true companion.
To accept the silhouette as the self, silent passenger of the flesh, always present.
To be born a chosen child, to be soothed by the thing hated so vehemently by the Light.
A new shield will rise, a benevolent heart sworn forever to keep away the undesirable.
The truth is seen, the holy midnight shall be championed by the purity of the sword.
Like a cleansing flame, absolute and righteous.
Armored in tested resolve, will unshaken by intimidation or false gods.
A prayer spoken true.
A hymn from the void.
A lullaby for the divine.
