Kṗűnq'ħãq'għoqṣk'ẓãkĕ: The Earth's Insatiable Famine

I. A Queen of Mud and Slime Grief and guilt - weights on the ankles. Bodies upon bodies, food for the marsh below. A spirit of guilt and despair, a goddess of final rest and respite. I came to know this apparition: a Lady of insatiable hunger, a queen of mud and slime. We struck our deal, and Hope came. By my guiding hand would we weather this storm. II. Their Bodies Pile in a Mass Grave of Regret For four hundred years I remained. For what, I do not understand. Only seeing this night spirit at the promised hour. The hunger grew. Oh, how hunger grew. Our kingdom was steadfast, standing strong on a foundation of Hope, initially culling the outsiders and guilty, but hunger grew. Oh, how hunger grew. And so I began planting the seeds of guilt, doubt, and sorrow. Prime seasonings for Our Lady. Delectable meals, all, but hunger grew. Oh, how hunger grew. Children and elderly - blaming themselves for their families’ demise - gone wandering into that dense marsh, but hunger grew. Oh, how hunger grew. Family, friends, lovers - prime crops - fed upon through the decades. Ever high did the pile grow, but hunger grew. Oh, how hunger grew. III. Their Bones Will Remember What I Have Done “Murderer! Traiter! Debaser! Defiler!” The wisps call for me. “Patricide! Matricide! Fratricide! Infanticide!” A curse of my own writing. A permanent etching in the bones of the piled bodies. I planted these seeds of guilt, doubt, and sorrow. Family, friends, lovers - prime crops - fed upon in mass. With the deal struck in Hope, there was only despair. By my guiding hand did we enter this storm. Four centuries of death, four centuries of betrayal, four centuries of unfulfilled promises. Hope built upon a pile higher than mountains. “Murderer! Traiter! Debaser! Defiler!” The wisps call my names. “Patricide! Matricide! Fratricide! Infanticide!” A litany of indisputable truths. A vile curse their bones will remember. There remains one final solution. One final attempt to appease. My grief, guilt, pain - prime crops - She’d surely desired for these long years. IV. Lay My Body Beneath the Marsh, Make Me One with the Earth Grief and guilt - weights on the ankles. Bodies upon bodies, food for the marsh below. A spirit of guilt and despair, a goddess of final rest and respite. I come to face this apparition: a Lady of insatiable hunger, a queen of mud and slime. We strike our deal, and Hope will live. By my own hand, they will weather this storm. Her supply run short, she accepts my offer. A feast to end all feasts. A firm step forward, guided to a preordained place. Lay me down, lay me down. I will not fight back, lay me down. Give me my rest, lay me down. With one final whimper, I cry out: abandon Hope.