A stapled man on a cross is not the Son.
The Goodness of Light be the Anointed.
A pentagram is not evil.
The fear of it is evil.
A man in clouds is not God.
Sense perception be thy Epoch.
A baphomet is not the Devil.
The terror of an image be thy Archon.
Pretentiousness and spite,
Humility and altruism.
Synonymous in all of Us.
The Last shall be First,
The lowest the Highest.
From decent, ascension.
From darkest to brightest.
The lowly fates are sealed;
Our societal masters have already decreed.
Souls belonging to Macedonian soldiers,
Whom rode for the Alexandrian cause,
Hearts of Poets and pious scholars,
Revolutionary thinkers and scientific tinkers.
Cast again into the River of Lethe,
Fate chosen by Moon-Spewed back into vessel anew.
Perplexed to find ourselves shunned, unrecognized in the courts of Kings.
Wisdom is eternal, accrued lots will perish.
We ourselves are our own kings, though all of you forgot.
Since I have sense, as well as you:
For what gifts indeed have you that others do not?