We have deciphered the writhing torments. We have seen beyond the elder scripts. And we will crawl towards occulting light. From the black cowl of carefully sculpted gloom, From the stoic gaze of condescension, From the bow'ed backs to illness and suffering -- come the deafening moans and empty posturing. Outside the ever-expanding maze of existential didactic. No longer stroking an eldritch façade. Writhing in chaos. Conforming it to our will. Escaped from the cycle renewed damage. Students scarred by the flaws of their masters. The insecure always desperate for approval. We have welcomed injections and tinctures, Wallowed in sensual indulgence, Contorted in our death postures, purged in ascetic indifference. We have sung our anthems of pain. We refuse to exist in our despair. We will find inner sanctum. And so shall we prevail.