Tall Papa, whose fingers brush the scattered stars, whose shadow stretches beyond horizons seen and unseen, whose authority commands the spirits of the last world and the next, have mercy on your children. It pains my soul to see my brothers and sisters clutched in the coils of the snake. They flee your blessed teachings, spitting on the face of the shame they should feel and driving their rusted blades into the heart of our traditions. They have been fooled and tempted by the fat life of emperors, and here I lay bare the transgressions upon the Old Ways. O Ruptga, I pray they should realize the hideous visage of these sins and repent, eyes open and seeing.