The winds howl.
The dark calls.
The moon prowls,
above these squalls.

Tonight, I am.

Below the tomb I was conceived,
from bone and flesh, and icy mire.
My listless heart at once inspired,
on my first breath from Hell's black Fire.

My eyes distend from hollow grooves,
once empty, wanting, needing sight,
to fill this damning void, anew,
with this dank and dreary night.

And, Oh! what joy at my first taste,
of cold, malevolent rain.
It speaks to my fresh palate, a hint
of the storm that is to come again.

Tonight, I sigh...

...with the lust of the deceased, reborn
in flesh sodden with long since dried blood;
this night I seek to feed on flesh
of a much firmer stock.

It bubbles nigh as I effervesce,
this laughter frothing forth;
the maelstrom nascent to my core
consuming conscious mind, what's more,
annihilating both stock and store
of all that I have left...

...'til all that remains is a shattered husk;
a memory of those brighter days
when I drifted, serene, in the gloaming dusk,
to never fear or writhe in lust,
on this, the icy earth's blank crust,
a shadow of my former ways.

Az-I-Dahak, Forsooth! I spite thy name;
for why should I, a shattered babe,
who wretches all your filth away
through darkest night and burning day
bow to such as you?

Tonight I am a saved new soul,
who, cleansed by fire of proper sorts,
does turn, once more, to elder halls,
to flit and fly with old consorts
as I once did in days long passed...

Anihil, let thy wrath be checked
by these children. Filthy they may be,
but of a much more kingly sort
than you could ever see.