Blown about like ashes on a wind we never see,
Moving towards mourning, dancing to memory;
Our father is dying, breathing so hollow,
If one god can die cannot all follow?
I am tasting ashes of the wind between the worlds,
Looking for the axis mundi, curses higher hurled;
The bull bleeds and dies, so too all Mystery:
Gods are all about me but none I care to see.
The only god with loving died this day:
Apollo and his are silent, what more left to say?
Mithras is dead, dull fire is the sun,
All is silent now for the Mystery's passed on.