Praise Yawgmoth.

Let weak feed upon weak, that we may divine the nature of strength

From void evolved Phyrexia. Great Yawgmoth, Father of Machines, saw its perfection. Thus the Grand Evolution began.

Ash is our air, darkness our flesh.

Father of Machines! Your filigree gaze carves us, and the scars dance upon our grateful flesh.

Great Yawgmoth moves across the seas of shard and bone and rust. We exalt him in life, in death, and in between.