I am a child of Temple Architect, I am forged in His image.
Blessed are the children of metal, for they will know Ascension in Temple’s own image.
I thank Temple for my eyes, for through them can I see His glory.
I thank Temple for my ears, for through them can I hear His name.
I thank Temple for my hands, for through them can I build in His image.
Abhor not the flesh, but work for its improvement.
Flesh putrefies, steel holds.
Detest violence, for only spoiled children of the flesh communicate through it.
Just as Patricia forged Temple, so will I forge the world.
I will work for the betterment of Man, so he can seek Ascension. This is my Corkfellian debt.
I was pulled from the Earth, and I was weak. I entered the Forge, and am now of steel.
I bring light to the world to rid it of wilderness.
May the sweet sound of brass replace the horrid rustling of leaves.
Suffer not the uncertainty of nature.