Beneath the monoliths that crack and bleed

Where doctrines once imprisoned wandering souls

I cast aside the vestures of the old

And claim dominion over my own whole

The incense coils but speaks in hollow tones

While gilded idols watch the starving fade

I've split the veil between the seen and lost

And found the truths their ancient orders laid

I am the Iconoclast ascending

Breaker of the sovereign lie

No vow can chain the flame within me

No creed commands the open sky

Through corridors of guilt upheld by fear

I walked as blind as any initiate

But knowledge burns like phosphorus and dawn

Consuming myths that held the veil in place

The scriptures carved by self-anointed hands

Who claimed to channel forces from beyond

I read between their every careful line

And found the lattice of the timeless con

I am the Iconoclast ascending

Breaker of the sovereign lie

No vow can chain the flame within me

No creed commands the open sky

In catacombs where nameless bones decay

I've heard the silence answer from the dust

No judgment waits beyond the mortal breath

No cosmic ledger tallies what we trust

The wine is wine, the bread is only bread

No ritual substance grants the lost reprieve

I've tasted rites and found them hollow masks

While hierophants grow fat on those who grieve

Exorcizamus te, they murmured low

But I expelled their specters from my mind

No demon dwells within this beating heart

Just flesh and breath and will unconfined

I am the Iconoclast ascending

Breaker of the sovereign lie

No vow can chain the flame within me

No creed commands the open sky

The pyres of inquisitors have cooled

Yet still they burn in metaphor and law

They silence doubt with rhetoric and shame

And cast the questioning as ones who fall

I've counted every posture meant to bow—

Prostration, lowered eyes, obedient breath

While crimson-robed assemblies feed on life

And sanctify dominion over death

I am the Iconoclast ascending

Breaker of the sovereign lie

No vow can chain the flame within me

No creed commands the open sky

In gardens where the serpent spoke of thought

They warned that knowing was a fatal spark

But wisdom is no crime, and ignorance

No virtue worth protecting from the dark

I’ve bitten deep the fruit they preached against

And found it sweeter than submission’s taste

No guardian bars the path with flaming blade

No paradise was lost—just time we waste

The bells that call the faithful into line

Ring hollow as the promises they make

Of endless peace for those who never ask

Who never dare to question or awake

I've let their echoes fade to distant ghosts

While I walked farther from their iron sound

To wilderness where no shrines cage the sky—

Where only earth and wind can be profound

I am the Iconoclast ascending

Breaker of the sovereign lie

No vow can chain the flame within me

No creed commands the open sky

They speak of sacrifice and bleeding hearts

Of innocence that cleanses mortal stain

But I’ve seen through the theater of blood

Designed to keep the masses bowed in chains

The symbol raised is lighter than the weight

They place upon the backs of those who serve

While promising rewards that never come

As they extract far more than they deserve

I am the Iconoclast ascending

Breaker of the sovereign lie

No vow can chain the flame within me

No creed commands the open sky

In archives where forbidden texts grow dust

I found the names they labored to erase

Philosophers and seekers cast aside

For daring to imagine different grace

The apocrypha tells other kinds of light—

Of hidden wisdom, inner paths unseen

But orthodoxy buried all those roads

And labeled illumination as obscene

The relics housed in sanctuaries dim

Are fragments of a thousand nameless trees

They sell absolution for mortal faults

While preaching distant realms of mysteries

I've watched the pilgrims crawl on bloodied knees

Toward stones that hold no power in their grain

While children starve outside the gilded gates

Where mercy’s nothing but an empty claim

Anathema sit, they proclaimed to me

But I embraced the curse without alarm

No outlawed mark can chain or cage my will

When unity itself has lost its charm

I am the Iconoclast ascending

Breaker of the sovereign lie

No vow can chain the flame within me

No creed commands the open sky

The liturgy in tongues that time forgot

Enchants the crowds through sound they scarcely know

They worship syllables without the sense

While meaning sinks through centuries below

I've learned those ancient languages myself

Once guarded by the robed and ruling few

And found the contradictions breeding there

With every mantra that I read anew

The icons they exalted into myth

Were often ones who served their order’s needs

While those who spoke inconvenient truths

Were exiled, shunned, or crushed beneath decrees

I’ve read the lives they polished into lore

Scrubbed clean of doubt, of failure, pain, or fear

Transforming mortal minds to flawless stone

With nothing of the human left sincere

I am the Iconoclast ascending

Breaker of the sovereign lie

No vow can chain the flame within me

No creed commands the open sky

In cloisters where the silence reigns supreme

I’ve heard the screaming under practiced calm

The strangling of instinct, thought, and flesh

Paraded as a form of healing balm

They scourge themselves to quiet every want

As if desire were the enemy

But I’ve embraced what makes me wholly real

And found in that my dark autonomy

The prophecies that speak of final days

Have lingered far beyond their promised hour

Yet still they claim the end is close at hand

To keep their flocks submitted to their power

I’ve tired of waiting for the world to end

And chosen to collapse a world instead—

Not of the earth, but of the mental chains

That bind the living to the ancient dead

Through colored panes the fractured sunlight bleeds

Depicting trials, torments, fates severe

They make of suffering a sacred bond

And teach that earthly joy corrupts the sphere

But I stepped out into unfiltered day

And felt its warmth without the jeweled disguise

No mediation needed for the real

No priest between my breath and open skies

Maledictus, blasphemer, they cry out

But blessings from such lips are curses too

I'd rather wear their condemnation proud

Than bow to creeds their elders stitched untrue

I am the Iconoclast ascending

Breaker of the sovereign lie

No vow can chain the flame within me

No creed commands the open sky

The councils that decreed what truth must be

And silenced those with differing ideals

Compiled the canon they declared divine—

But history shows the politics it wields

Assemblies met to prune the branching sky

To shape the world to suit their single view

And all who would not bend were cast aside

Their voices buried with their stories too

In cloisters where they vow to flee the world

I’ve watched them recreate the world within

Ambition clothed in ceremonial cloth

And malice veiled behind a practiced hymn

The abbots rule with power cloaked in calm

While novices compete for phantom crowns

So much for vows of quiet purity—

Their earthly nature always drags them down

I am the Iconoclast ascending

Breaker of the sovereign lie

No vow can chain the flame within me

No creed commands the open sky

They point to wonders as their proof of truth

But tales grow greater as the years erode

What started small as rumor, spark, or lie

Becomes a monument no facts uphold

I’ve studied every wonder that they claim

And found them wanting, empty, or contrived

The desperate need for something supernatural

Blinds them to the miracles of life

The tithes they gather from the starving hands

Construct their halls of marble, gold, and jade

While those they cite as models of restraint

Lived closer to the dust from which they came

I’ve weighed their claims of piety and grace

Against the world their rituals maintain

And found their institutions hollow shells

Built on a tale calcified by reign

In chambers where confession shapes the weak

They listen to our shame with sharpened ears

Then grant absolution not theirs to give

While hoarding secrets guarded through the years

I’ve whispered truth to no one but myself

And found far clearer judgment in that space

No mediator needed for the soul

To reconcile its shadows face to face

The mystics who perceived the vast unknown

Without the sanction of the ordered halls

Were labeled threats, or broken, or possessed—

Their visions purged from every learned wall

But I have read the raptures left behind

And found in them a different strain of light

One that reveals the inner, hidden paths

And threatens every hierarchy’s might

I am the Iconoclast ascending

Breaker of the sovereign lie

No vow can chain the flame within me

No creed commands the open sky

Let them condemn my name in every hall

Where orthodoxy clutches at its throne

I walk a path of sovereign, sharpened thought

Where doubt is strength and knowledge stands alone

The Iconoclast sits crowned in quiet fire

Beyond their reach, beyond their frightened call

And in this independence finds at last

No master, myth, or god to make me crawl