After the manner of flickering lights comes the vision by night
Held by the beauty of the glow, the prophet almost loses sight 
Meaning paraded as essences, beauties never before comprehended
Enraptured by the rich aura, he speaks motioned by the being

The light of true love bears upon the prophet
He is unwounded 
Forgotten are the tasks, the slavish mode; 
the incomprehensible direction towards the unattainable
Music pervades the steam of which the prophet is made.  
Whence did it come?
He hears voice, discerns the wonder, yet he cannot explain

He is frozen in awe,
Facing the faceless, the nameless, the purity, 
The desire of desires, the subconscious palate surfaces 
He is the subconscious; he is filled 

The scroll appears, he grasps it
How blessed is he tonight, yet so fearful by what he possesses
So trapped in knowledge 

He must reveal 
Hard pressed by thoughts of the mission
Truth’s burden cast on this lone soul 

Upon earth, the self-conscious examination, can this be?
Ignore reality for falsity
Reaping productively by the ways of iniquity
Signs of something much ignored, but it would not ignore    
It is there; in the falsity is the reality
So let it be
Thy will be mine own