The Cult of Venus Aversa

"I am she, Lilith! Mistress of the dark of Sheba, first offender, and succour to demons. Whose sweet seductions and wicked rites lead all those too enslaved by the flesh to trespass against God's holy law. And tonight I come for you..." Midnight strikes, the candles sputter, muttering their reeking spells. I snuff their tongues, my heart a-flutter, these words I speak are gates to Hell. Casus belli, in hoc signo vinces. Veritas vos liberabit. Casus belli, in hoc signo vinces. In aeturnum, amen. Casus belli, in hoc signo vinces. Veritas vos liberabit. Casus belli, in hoc signo vinces. In aeturnum, amen. The scent of Death is rent in this ornamental verse. It ventures down the centuries, tormenting me with secrets so anathema. And now the fires grate, I must relate to end this curse. I'll break through spires to escape my fate, Am I too late or just perverse? Midnight strikes, the candles sputter, muttering their reeking spells. I snuff their tongues, my heart a-flutter, these words I speak are gates to Hell. So the blight begins near the woodland of a frightened village where the rites of unimaginable sin, and the howling on the wind chills the blood for fear of spillage. Where nightfall used to be blessed with best tranquility, its now caressed by misadventure. Templars cursed from the crusades have birthed a church, more masquerade in which they worship mass dementia. They came from dust and flame by the Red Sea on dead shores, fleeing claims of blasphemy and bestiality. Devils fed them back to us! Knights of holy wars inviting hordes of grim infidelities, in the grip of cryptic lands and desert sands they found just cause. And midst their entourage under the stars they brought relics and parts of saints, and evil left to clerics charge. With Muslim plunder they built their sect to the composite Baphomet. An androgynous sphinx, open, erect, universal in its closet display. Spawn of Lilith and Samael, first offender and the snake. In thrall like pawns beneath its spell the Templars grew to astute surrender. Sabbatical, fanatical they adorned its monstrous bust with a king's ransom of Eastern jewels, the embodiment of beast and lust. Many moons then proved the boon of immutable and beautiful darkness ever-afters. Then one eve when the ancient trees outside drew back unnerved, the pleas from those impatient teased something from the black beyond of nowhere. A stunning woman summoned, coming scimitar-curved. Statuesque but living flesh draping nakedness about their pagan saviour. She came Lilith, a perfect myth, The scarlet whore. Skinned in magnificence, in her defence she only slew a few of them. Born of a sacrifice, a virgin's price for the merging with a Goddess. She prowled the world again, enslaving men with the surging of her bodice. Midnight strikes, the candles sputter, muttering their reeking spells. I snuff their tongues, my heart a-flutter, these words I speak are gates to Hell. Casus belli, in hoc signo vinces. Veritas vos liberabit. Casus belli, in hoc signo vinces. In aeturnum, amen. Casus belli, in hoc signo vinces. Veritas vos liberabit. Casus belli, in hoc signo vinces. In aeturnum, amen.