Ode to the Prophet of Aquarius

How painful, to be woken from your slumber
Mid-way to journeys end and the familiar Burden bears heavy once again
To resist the ever-restful sleep
And be Cursed
With the perpetual waking of day on day
We weep, we hear and remember

I am that which is seen
And the darkness that veils the night
I am the creator and the created
The stone Forrest will be ripped
From its roots
As my womb water spill'th into the earth
I bring a flood of my children

Pour from me onto this world
The order of Aquarius and behold
This is the new Age



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