THE BLACK RITE OF YADDITH
(from The Book of Eibon)
(for Lin Carter)
by
Joseph S. Pulver, Sr.
In the Ninth Layer of the Dream-State of Revealing, soaring on the Dimensional Currents, I, Eibon of Mhu Thulan, journeyed to the final days of Yaddith. There to witness those gathered in Holy Mass. Before theGrand Temple of She Who Is To Come in City One, Nzoorka and Arch-Ancient Buo stood with ten-thousand and ten-thousand ringing the temple's great pools, filled with oceans of blood poured in offering. As one did the throng cry out until the ground was as a turbulent mire.
Mighty Mother of brood scattered to the wandering stars,
We did not see the prelude, nor the ambush --
Night, the hard journey in foul circumstance, falls on our labors to Thy Glories.
The ground we tread is as a sea of angers gorging,
From far and misty Ba-Benzala -- whose enormous histories lay as forest ravished,
And splendor-fabled Babaluma where weep wizards in towers broken,
The servants-below rise fierce --
All-Mother, our cup holds great need of thy guard and comforts!
Smite the Snout-worm -- Burn its seed!
Our liberty has lost its wings. Return with miracles reprised!
Here is our gift of consecrated blood!
Iro 'l ixx Tliat stt stt Obïaa! Aitg 'n Vmsse, Shub-Niggurath!
Othaag G'gn Cl'rloomn tte Vnstaa -- L'vch! L'vch! Pnuir mnpo!
Mighty Mother, the Enslaving Chants -- Dhol Xigl -- have failed,
Web-trails scar and pock Proud Yaddith; once fair sanctuary.
Hateful-eyes peer from roiling black depths exposed.
In our learned halls -- triumphs that hold the vast glory of Thy name --
The crawling-destroyers harvest our seed.
All-Mother, our cup holds great need of thy guard and comforts!
Smite the Snout-worm -- Burn its seed!
Our liberty has lost its wings. Return with miracles reprised!
Here is our gift of consecrated blood!
Iro 'l ixx Tliat stt stt Obïaa! Aitg 'n Vmsse, Shub-Niggurath!
Othaag G'gn Cl'rloomn tte Vnstaa -- L'vch! L'vch! Pnuir mnpo!
The Noth-Soth are lost in a world newborn in cavorting nightshades hunting.
The Temple of the Spirit of Triumphs Discovered
Is now an empty fortress, a funeral of sore hallucinations.
Color and shine fade and dim -- Bright Yaddith crumbles!
All-Mother, our cup holds great need of thy guard and comforts!
Smite the Snout-worm -- Burn its seed!
Our liberty has lost its wings. Return with miracles reprised!
Here is our gift of consecrated blood!
Iro 'l ixx Tliat stt stt Obïaa! Aitg 'n Vmsse, Shub-Niggurath!
Othaag G'gn Cl'rloomn tte Vnstaa -- L'vch! L'vch! Pnuir mnpo!
Nython and Mthura close their fearful-hearts to our cause.
NZOORL slaps us with its cold nay shouted.
Yarnak, and Ymar, and VHOORL,
ZOATH and KTYNGA,
Hold nothing but conformation of Our Doom.
All-Mother, our cup holds great need of thy guard and comforts!
Smite the Snout-worm -- Burn its seed!
Our liberty has lost its wings. Return with miracles reprised!
Here is our gift of consecrated blood!
Iro 'l ixx Tliat stt stt Obïaa! Aitg 'n Vmsse, Shub-Niggurath!
Othaag G'gn Cl'rloomn tte Vnstaa -- L'vch! L'vch! Pnuir mnpo!
Hungry Yaddith with her cries like pierced and ruined armor trembles --
A million and a million flee, as a million and a million more
Are measured by silent poisons greater than mere death.
All-Mother, our cup holds great need of thy guard and comforts!
Smite the Snout-worm -- Burn its seed!
Our liberty has lost its wings. Return with miracles reprised!
Here is our gift of consecrated blood!
Iro 'l ixx Tliat stt stt Obïaa! Aitg 'n Vmsse, Shub-Niggurath!
Othaag G'gn Cl'rloomn tte Vnstaa -- L'vch! L'vch! Pnuir mnpo!
Mighty Mother Promised To Come --
Our voices and collected-powers united are raised,
Is not The Time of Thy Return upon us?
Fly to us, woeful and lost to this cataclysm!
Quiet thy foulsome servants below!
O Most High and Holy Shub-Niggurath,
The Noth-Soth, overwhelmed, cry out!
All-Mother, our cup holds great need of thy guard and comforts!
Smite the Snout-worm -- Burn its seed!
Our liberty has lost its wings. Return with miracles reprised!
Here is our gift of consecrated blood!
Iro 'l ixx Tliat stt stt Obïaa! Aitg 'n Vmsse, Shub-Niggurath!
Othaag G'gn Cl'rloomn tte Vnstaa -- L'vch! L'vch! Pnuir mnpo!
Here is our gift of consecrated blood!
Iro 'l ixx Tliat stt stt Obïaa! Aitg 'n Vmsse, Shub-Niggurath!
Othaag G'gn Cl'rloomn tte Vnstaa -- L'vch! L'vch! Pnuir mnpo!
Here is our gift of consecrated blood!
Iro 'l ixx Tliat stt stt Obïaa! Aitg 'n Vmsse, Shub-Niggurath!
Othaag G'gn Cl'rloomn tte Vnstaa -- L'vch! L'vch! Pnuir mnpo!
Here is our gift of consecrated blood!
Iro 'l ixx Tliat stt stt Obïaa [um on i]! Aitg 'n Vmsse, Shub-Niggurath!
Othaag G'gn Cl'rloomn tte Vnstaa -- L'vch! L'vch! Pnuir mnpo!
© 1998 Edward P. Berglund
"The Black Rite of Yaddith": © 1998 Joseph S. Pulver, Sr. All rights reserved.
Graphic © 1998 Old Arkham Graphics Design. All rights reserved. Email to: Corey T. Whitworth.
Created: April 10, 1998