In The Streams of Phlegethon

This cold but purest of energies
 I can sense it with all of my being
 As it drags me to the end of my wits
 I let it pierce my heart and my soul
 Like the tip of the (Un)holy lance
 Penetrating the feeble dangling flesh
 It heals my soul and mind, grants me great powers
 As pure as the flames of the filth-incinerating river
 It is the naked truth, with no tolerance for lies
 One that I accepted into my heart many moons ago
 I can see its aura
 I smell its fragrance
 I hear its beating pulse
 I touch its core
 And taste its flesh
 Once there was a belly like a cauldron of impurity
 Festering with contaminated thoughts
 Full of wormwood and fear
 But they are no more
 And all the weeds sown by leeches
 Drowned in the fiery streams of Phlegethon