In scarlet fields where fallen angels sleep: a ground upon which mortals dare not tread, where moves the image of the fallen man who holds the star within his hand beneath the shadow of a darkened sun: intoxicated by the wine of life we slumber through our days of emptiness and blindness and forgetfulness.
within the fire of awakening: there lies the core of my triumphant self. a spark ignites a freedom greater than all life, my mystery profound.
upon the altar where the chalice stands: where coils the serpent round its offering of knowing and of sight, the power to transcend beyond the tyrant's throne.
