Angelic visions hewn in white.
A relic sacred, gift divine.
Bathed in sallow golden light,
piercing the vessels of mankind.
Who kneels before the mantle gold,
projecting thoughts into the sphere
where light dissolved manipulates
the will of Aeon's cold austere.
The inner chamber stands agape,
the void benign and whispering.
A feather carves a crescent path,
age-hardened stone is giving in.
The seeds we've sewn, rising forth.
The sons of trite and jealous birth,
who wash their hands in blood and soil.
A golden light, an earthly toil.
