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.
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