Terrestrial Hospice - 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