Sweet are the faces smiling now, sweet in their blind rapture. Sweet are the nods, and sweet their squinting eyes, approval for all that they despise.
I will destroy, I will consume, a fire that never dies.
Sweet are the screams arising now, sweet every shock of pain. Sweet are the howls, eyes opening wide, seeing the rising tide.
There’s no place to run nor hide.
Sweet are the ashes and bones. Sweet the silence of death. Sweet the burned and grinning skulls which never more know rest. Sweet is this this cinder’s nest.
So sweet, the starving flames attest.
Tale Told 