They worship gods of Babylon, noble in vain self-conception.
Creating edifices of self-destruction, they cast their bones into the sky, sacrificing the stars for mastery of the world.
Profane flame burns in their chests, and nothing supports their feet.
Under a sunless sky they will meet eternity, weeping at their loss, purging their minds and bodies of what they knew in their first breath.
They worship, and come away unfulfilled.
Their temples are hollow, their eyes soulless, their hopes dashed on the rocks and shattered into the splinters of a thousand wasted words.
And still they worship gods of Babylon.