Their theories shall not touch the skin
The fates determined between endless
dusks
Chosen or rejected so they believe
But I have seen the futures
Written in the annals of antiquity
Their theories flayed to the bone
The supposition I foresee
To gouge their searching
In eternity I will walk
My trail beknownst to no mortal
And what of your inquest?
They who are left to the scraps of
wonder
Their longing will fade
A herd shorn of their yield
Predestined & autophagous
Gnawing the bones of their brethren
In one another they see deep within
The true reflection
The stranglehold of selves
Evaporates as breath
Left to their inquest
Left to perish
Hear now my revelation
My scorn be my will
Swallow now my steps
The descent of the corporeal
But know this
Ascend, Ascend, Ascend