Lament beneath the Veil

We walked once in the crimson light,

With open eyes and voices raised,

We named our fury holy fire,

And crowned our wrath with hymns of praise.

Now ashes fall where banners flew,

And silence fills the shattered nave,

The saints we loved lie torn in two,

By hands that swore the oaths we gave.

⸻

O Emperor, hear the sorrowed choir,

Our blood, our tears, our broken plea,

We veil our eyes from righteous fire,

And kneel in grief and constancy.

Not glory now, nor martyr’s fame—

Only the weight of what has been,

We bear the sin, we bear the name,

We walk the path of Veiled Martyrs still.

⸻

The bells that rang for victory

Now toll for sisters lost to flame,

Their voices haunt the cloistered halls,

Each prayer an echo carved with shame.

We sang of faith, we sang of steel,

But did not hear the warning cry,

For blood once spilled is hard to seal,

And wrath, once loosed, will never die.

⸻

O Emperor, look not upon

The wounds we carved in zeal and fear,

But see the knees upon the stone,

The silent vows, the waiting tear.

We ask no crown, we claim no right,

No saintly song, no righteous sign,

Only the strength to guard the light,

And keep our fury bound by time.

⸻

Beneath the mountain, sealed and deep,

Where bones of saints and liars lie,

We laid our sins to restless sleep,

And turned our gaze from heaven’s sky.

If mercy lives, let it be slow,

If justice comes, let it be clean,

For we will stand where shadows grow,

Unseen, unheard, forever keen.

⸻

O Emperor, receive our grief,

As incense in the dying flame,

We walk in sorrow, not belief

That we are worthy of Thy name.

Yet still we stand, though hope is thin,

Through ash and blood and silent scars,

For faith restrained is not a sin—

And tears still fall beneath the Veil.