Breathe its pure raptured rhythms
The finger of god ever closer
Dancing like the rising phoenix
Gawking at the glory of kings
This world is blind and cannot hear
A marked vision of hope whose hand
Betrays heaven and grasps the dark
Golden orb, pale images all
Sweet songs for the savage race
Auspicious guide for a primal brood
Gone with a gleam of frothy thought
I pound a cadence of miracles
For unseen masses do I sing
Thru the black night of suns
Each beat full of resounding hope
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