Invictus

On the loins of the fever’s deliriums

I crossed the hells of opium.

Without my eyes I can see beyond all the stars.

I’m the writer of the emerald table,

Pythia at the delphic oracle,

I’m a babylon whore.

I see the ancient races, the immigrants of atlantis and lemuria, the billions of lives that have preceded me.

I'm an isis priest, a slave in egypt,

Tarpeya crushed, pupil of socrates;

I parade with the imperial legions,

The aeneas descendant.

I take a billion forms, I know all the lives,

I feel the entire universe’s knowledge,

But where does the divine grace hide?

Where are the wasted prayers thrown into despair?

I exist in all beings and all beings exist in me,

I feel myself in communion with the earth,

But god isn't in me.