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The source of splendour in forms manifold |
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in whom the fathomless arcana turn aglow |
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Eosphoros - The brightest heavenly eye |
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each tempest of doubt His grandeur makes subside |
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All aeons entwine for He did arise |
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the flame that without loss endlessly devides |
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like the sharpest sword is His unchallenged blaze |
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that cuts from our way the cobweb of restraint |
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Heralds, disciples and serpents we are |
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the object and the channel for His powers |
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driven forth by the undying lust |
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to surpass the frailties of ours |
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and to go beyond every Ring-pass-not |
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The true wisdom besmeared in black |
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waiting to be once unravelled |
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by the insightful and the daring |
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to be finally discovered |
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Whereas He is the circle, we are at the center |
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too abstract to be defined, too concrete to be denied |
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All aeons entwine for He did arise |
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the flame that without loss endlessly devides |
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you call Him Satan, the prince of darkness and death |
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we call Him Satan, the eternal fountain of strength |
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Whereas He is the circle, we are at the center |
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too abstract to be defined, too concrete to be denied |