Ashram - Way to Hell

Beneath the dying candle
my name lies buried in dust.
No heaven opens its gates,
no angel answers my call.

I knelt before statues of gold,
spoke words that returned as silence.
I carried the cross like a chain
until its edges cut into my flesh.

But tonight
I will break it.

I prayed
until my voice became a whisper.

I believed
until there was nothing left to believe.

Where was your light
in the nights without ending?
Where was your hand
when I drowned beneath the darkness?

Only silence.

Only cold.

Only the endless breath
of a dead God.

I no longer raise my eyes
toward the heavens.

I curse the stars
that once promised me salvation.

No savior.
No father.
No paradise.
Only me —
and the darkness.

The faith I carried
was nothing but a cage.

And tonight
I leave it behind.

Deep beneath the ancient trees
I draw forgotten signs into the earth.

Four candles of blackened wax.
A circle carved through the soil.
Ash upon my hands.
Ancient words upon my tongue.

The wind becomes silent.

The forest holds its breath.

The moon disappears
behind a veil of clouds.

And from the deepest chamber
of my despair
a name begins to rise.

Not a voice.

Not a face.

A thought.

A presence
that has waited within me
since the first prayer
was forced between my lips.

Satan.

I speak your name
not out of hope.

I speak it
as an act of defiance.

Not because I seek salvation —

but because I no longer
ask to be saved.

Here I abandon
the chains of my childhood.

The guilt.

The fear.

The endless kneeling
before an empty altar.

I tear apart
the pages that told me
what I was meant to become.

I cast the words into the fire.

The smoke rises
like a darkened liturgy.

And as the ashes fall,
the final fragments
of my former faith
die with them.

I WILL KNEEL NO MORE.

Before angels.

Before kings.