The clash of worlds is at hand.
I am the first. I am the last.
The passage has occurred.
I am the knowing. I am the lost.
I am the honored. I am the scorned.
Look to the Guardian of the cautious West
The White Tiger preys the autumn winds
Eyes pierce the hidden world
Claws cut like Virtue's sword
Look to the Guardian from the North Abyss
The Black Serpent carries winter's kiss
The frozen earth like a snake that sleeps
A thousand years and the gift of speech
The clash of worlds is at hand.
I am the first. I am the last.
The passage has occurred.
I am the knowing. I am the lost.
I am the honored. I am the scorned.
Look to the Guardian of the ancient East
The Blue Dragon forges Spring's release
Reigning shower and the soul of rain
The forest sprouts to life again
Look to the Guardian soaring from the South
The Red Bird lost phoenix from the fire
Knowledge fortune all seed's source
Song soothes all hallowed force
The clash of worlds is at hand.
That where Divinity in the tiniest things
Meets disregard, flat denial, dogma, or the wretched
mistaking.
Dominion -
The wholesale merchandising of a belief
That sells sickness -
Born, to sleepers
The unnatural seems Natural,
It is slow death
Waking from this world,
When the Truth is veiled...
Is there no choice but to breathe in?
Sleep?
The clash of worlds is at hand.
I am the first and the last.
The passage has occurred.
I am the knowing. I am the lost.
I am the honored. I am the scorned.
The clash of worlds is at hand.
I am the first and the last.
The passage has occurred.
I am the knowing. I am the lost.
I am the honored and the scorned.
I am the first and the last.
I am the honored and the scorned.
I am the honored and the scorned.
