My god.
You are sacrilege and scared
the creator and the fallen
I sip from your cup
I pray at your temple
I adorn my body with oils.
Yet still, drought seizes the land.
I toil in the fields
I fast in honor of you and your glory
Yet drought seizes the land.
I shed my clothes
I cry upon the holy hill for you to take pity on me
For am I not worthy?
Come upon me, lie with me, and show me your might show me your rath.
vengefulness the old kings whispered about.

and it was still, then rain began to fall across the land