A back language spoken in the mind, whispers behind
the boasting and assertions of the Never Happy One.
Seems human beings get too caught up in life, as most are blind
and deaf to deeper goings on. They have exactly none,
when it comes to clues. The game's already afoot and the prize
they're looking for, they're looking with, but how can zombies be told?
Beyond the blast and chatter that brains buy into, new ears and eyes
await their pilgim's push. But Rip van Winkle's still out cold!
"One by one I call my sons from Egypt." The Esoteric
strivers, understand these words to mean, 'each man alone,
denounce his dark and pagan ways, and be his own Self-cleric,
whom expedites the rise of richer energies, all his own.
The consciousness that's liberated through the grim crusade
of exiting from Egypt, is the rarified essence of God
made manifest within, and as, the ones we are. Afraid
to lose your Heaven with its harps and halos? As a fraud
pretending your beliefs possess a ballast of their own,
assures your life will pass without your precious cosmic spark
surging in glorious Grace. Back you'll go to shadopws, where
savvy angels fear to tread, as Heaven doesn't do Dark.