Here’s a collective of one line each, rhyming couplets:
(lets join in one movement for science, for truth)
The misty mountain was drenched in droplets,
(for the world is covered by life and proof)

Which reflected rainbows of light
(the potential of which is bright at length)
Showing the particolors lone and bright.
(this diversity itself being the strength)

Beneath the mountain a dark presence lurked,
(for history has a demon lurking)
And so on down from the summit they searched.
(so belief not being enough of the searching
the source of the truth must be sought over preaching)

Through tunnels dark the Elders flew fast,
(the learned humans looked on with fervor)
As thus they could surprise what it hast.
(seeking to topple entrenched belief going further)

Dark tongued demon's shrill call cuts,
(the relinquishment of power is not given easily by fools)
As then they froze to best locate those zealots
(stop, look, and listen to the world to find the tools)

Gouged out brainpans, they hung in blooded cathedrals,
(violence of the indoctrinated flows back into history’s thrall,
and still hangs on, feasting on the minds of the vulnerable)

We ascendant to locating the highest installs.
(hark, the rise of science upon high,
the road of truth sets the scene of nigh)

The elementals melt before the Phalanx of Truth's transcendency,
(religion that gave birth to and parented the being's beginnings is routed by the truths that disprove their ongoing relevance)
As the ever-present, wishful fantasy remains for them to fancy.
(freed of the control of belief the ideas of gods go on forever to inspire the minds and imaginations)

The final act sees a city of diamond flourish below the world,
(the sharpest, brightest and strongest finally build the technologically advanced existence they knew they could)
The shimmering and glittering radiations of light unfurled.
(thrusting out into the unknown the humanoids begin
a final journey of enlightenment. A sway of the universe is sure)

The performance is over. The artists have taken off their masks. The illusion is fading. Once the scenery is burnt out back on the bonfires of religious tradition, and the embers have cooled, up from the ashes will rise a bird so free and perfect; its beauty to cut through the miasmal dew formed steam of false parade will inspire the burnt-out-nest dwellers to curlicue upwards on the heated thermal of the firebirds (a)wake(ning).
The End/Beginning