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No, Caesar, you were born with the blades in you

Auriga Soranus whispers your name

The face that once was marble now is flesh

The horn of the goat seized in the serpent’s mouth

Blood blossoms on the sacrificial stone

The face of Taurus gleams with seven rays

Five mirrors illuminate the caverned man

The grain spills from the belly of the bull

The places where the goats are torn apart

In vitriol to find the secret stone

Earth's core hot like the entrails of a beast

The terracotta face of victory

The labyrinth of the continuum

An outcast on the mountains of the heart

The inward turn becomes the inward spiral

A holy hen upon the nest of night

Do we not feel the breath of empty space?

This ubiquitous virtual sense of loss

The yawning gulf of past and future time

The silent outward turn of emptiness

We are the relics of our ruined past

The rotting of the base material

The yliaster sphere turned porphyry

The everlasting pitiful “too late”

Let us not speak of what we cannot have

Two thousand years force-fed the flesh of Christ

The sunset was mistaken for the dawn

They drank the wine and now we drink the blood

The solar crown becomes the crown of thorns

Process as catching fire between extremes

Anointed with the ash of fired gods

The law revealed within the thought of death

The king submerged within the ravaged mare

Now supplicant before the empty throne

The gray and sullen stubbornness of fact

The constant fabrication of new lies

In nature there is neither line nor color

This cosmic order, everlasting fire

The incommensurable magnitudes

The deepening red of that unconquered sun

Eternity is torn apart in time

The profanation of the mysteries

The highest values devalue themselves

Osiris-Antinous is born again

To you the conquerors and the pale saints

Music consumed in the very act of birth

The griding sword with discontinuous wound

The hawk is swallowed by the snake it’s caught