An elegy echoes from a high place, toward ardent souls parading below.

Cascading sculptures are carried by failing effervescence…
Masses are laid anxious; by irrational passion to venerate the superior.

A culture unchallenged is tolerated in its precedence to death and questionable redemption.

Here the tradition is exposited:

It is said that by the touch of HIS ornament, that of his imitated form, will provide the requester of their plea.
In light of HIS agony and validated glory this belief was prescribed.

So it is that souls are driven.
HIS arms gilded, HIS face adorned.

But by a mad riot for this achievement we find no acuity for complacence.
A tremendous depth of perdition is much predestined.
Harsh and vital consequences cannot be halted in its continuance.

Inevitable fury fall with tears on feet wounded; screams of worship increase amongst hopeful delusions.
Blood remains as these intrepid helots pass.
Marching forward with their thinking misaligned and unreliable, debris of retreat no longer exists.

A disserted option must be initiated to avert disruptiveness and voluminous loss.

A journey most unhurried...
A guise of religiosity quite mordant …

Each breath constrained and succumbing, each fretting step prized.
Fortunate are the survivors, let prayers fill the dead.