Fire of faith and fire of skill
Clash within the desert still.
The wheels of war ever turn.
Virgin candles feel the burn.

Baarite zeal, magick's seal,
Lies, and dogma on the wheel,
Scratch the suface of the real
Cause for all the pain we feel.

A dispute forged in ages past
When the moon could not hold fast.
Yet why should mortal men refrain
From reaching for the diachaim?

When even gods cannot agree,
What does that mean for you and me?
So ask yet deeper, ask still why,
You raise your sword and make men die.

Penned by my hand on the 6th of Fas, in the year 570 AD.