Pertaining to secret language, these medieval lyrics discern our veneration
Indicating how we were marrow for one another, in spaces left hollow
I ate of your nectar, though the gods deemed it sinful, in this moment of felicity
Others only saw me touching you, savoring you; labeling us a paradox
I was not ravenous in my weakness for you, I was apprehensive in my yearn
The belonging that came with our shame, that our children would call communion

They will break the bread that you fed me during our eulogized communion
Not out of fear or intimidation, but for the unmitigated reason of their veneration
Drinking our blood from an inherited chalice; tasting only left them years to yearn
While the spectators who see them, dare not sip, due to their heart felt hollow
Hailing our offspring as noble among them, who added reason to their paradox?
Placing metaphors and similes cleverly together, in documents of their felicity

Bete Noire will come quickly promising narratives of his eminent felicity
Pretending that the seat he chose at the table, was in the spirit of communion
Yet, our sons and daughters will hear the negation of his self-serving paradox
Lips laced with the speech of acceptance trying to wean them in veneration
Atoning to the words of forgiveness, hiding his intention with acts that breathe hollow
Taking their kindness for a prostration, leaves immovability to follow the yearn

Abstaining from the destruction of greed will sanction even their young to yearn
So in their old age, they may sit by brooks and streams continuing in their felicity
Witnessing waters that flow increasingly, never seeing the ground relinquish hollow
Holding each others hand as we taught them to, in the manner of our communion
Faithful in their deeds, to all whom they will bare; sovereign shall be their veneration
To stand boldly against the order in that day and in this light, live out their paradox

Teaching those who bask at their feet, the possibility of our indissoluble paradox
Remembering us, as grateful children would; emulating us, to ease abrupt yearn
So that the followers of this teaching will wait in the absolute of our veneration
Searching desperately for the means to show how they have learned felicity
Touching each other as we did, when we invented the deep-seated communion
Even when we could not partake, found our souls darkened, dammed, and hollow

And the words that soon would ensue, told us a truth that was also conceived hollow
Tyrants considered authority surrounded us, eagerly forcing us to take the paradox
As an induction for those tied by the lie, to secretly hold impromptu communion
A communion of thoughtless felicity only begot lovers who’d write because they yearn
A greater paradox than the hollow of the one given, willed sadness turned into felicity
Yearn all over again, forsaking communion this time, and pray you find true veneration