AN ENGLISH TRANSLATION
By
MORTEN ZANE

This poem is etched, one line per step, into the face of the stairway leading down the western side of Hemlev Mont. It was written between 3030-3130 ACE (After Common Era), using one of the first “global” languages to evolve on Earth. This language however was nearly extinct by 3500 due to its absurd complexity, and was forgotten by 4000. Thus, by the 74th Century—the time during which the events of this book take place—there was obviously no one left alive who could even remotely read it. Fortunately, we have studied these time periods meticulaously, and have been able to translate what is written on the steps. The poem, in plain english, reads as follows:

I know you, and you know me
I have studied the stars with you in youth
I have read the words written of them
I have seen their crown, the Mazzaroth
Studied the twelve stations of its civilizations
Heard the lyre singing in weird waves
Of the seven sisters of the Pleiades. 
I have internalized the song of songs
Which many attribute to the wisdom of Solomon 
Others still to the golden Zeppelin  
And I myself to the minds of heaven 
Who sent here forth to test my will 
The Noic wraiths of the shape shifting race 
Of my own creation is that name I admit 
But what else is one to call them 
If not by the name which rises within  
For I have read the architecture of the Masons 
Studied the man who bore Thelema 
Scoped the rituals of the Golden Dawn
Smelt the aroma of the Rosy Cross   
Etched into mind the Emerald Tablet of Thoth
Besought the mysteries of the thrice great Hermes
Wrestled the demons of Gnostic Grimoires 
The Lesser Keys of Solomon I’ve possessed
Unlocked twelve Gates of the Egyptian Tombs
And gone forth into the day awaiting Myself
Reborn as a mummified corpse in waiting
For a trumpeted voice to announce the forthcoming 
Return I was promised throughout my youth
In the Holiest of Holiest of Books of all of These
Wherein on an immutable parchment I read
Of the One with a new name never before uttered
Crashing the scene from east to west
And riding in with blood stained robes
Of pure white radiance on a horse of Love
Who’s war would be given as the Last Word
Born of a Virgin cradled in the sky
Above a red beast ready to eat her young
And slashed to the boiling caustic Void
Of an endless frozen concave in an abyss
Which somehow has a door that shall be locked
And the holder of the Key is the Named King
Who somehow seems to have never made
Not one single glimpse of an actual appearance 
In any of the books I have here-fore mentioned
For yea though they arrange the stars in bouquets 
Of highly thought out symbols and gears
Representing the workings of cosmic forces
And how to summon them 
And how to be capable of wielding them
And how to comprehend them
And how to track them in their workings
And how to call them by their names
And turn those names into numbers
And how to deceive yourself to grandeur
Using this meticulously static gematria  
Taught because it is old and assumed to be closer
And more accurate than ever to the source
Despite the ever evolving state of the aether
In which this reality lives it’s beatific life
They have yet to lay a filthy finger
On the instrument of Truth
Hidden in their closet of Sophic Wisdom
That even the amateur witch is closer to
In her burning of incense in purple gardens
For yea though they clothe their arduously engineered
Path to enlightenment in the shiniest robes
They hide it behind thirty three million layers
Of abstract meaning and masturbatory diction 
So that the layman may never see the face of their god
Who demands worship and ceremony 
Under the guise of totality and freedom
Burnt on the alters of innocent children
Who will be quietly loved by the Higher God
Who mocks the suffering of their captors
And places them in the embrace of their Mother 
But I shall not digress any further on the subject
Of the four lettered ego mastermind father
I rejected in my youth because of his jealousy
Love is not jealous, and it does not boast
And that is the end of that, I am that I am   
For in my studies of the alchemical wedding
I have heard the sound of a heartbeat ending
I have seen the scales of Anubis tipped
By a feather levitating two feet from bliss
The fixed and the unfixed
The solid and the mercurial essences
The sulfur and the salt of the body and soul
The Fire, Earth, Air, and Water above all
Below the four main instruments of the choir
Which are yet again mere creations of my mind
That at some calculated point in galactic time 
Conceptualized the mechanics of the Universe
By placing them on a five pointed pentagonal line
With some sacred syllables supposedly corresponding
To unutterable realities hiding under the surface
Of a mathematical serpent named the World
Envisioned in parts of myself as a hermaphroditic
Guru with jewelry gracing every fractal limb 
That’s spread with hands in signals representing
Each and every one a distinctly different meaning
Of the Brahman’s many moods and fictions
That the human stage wishes also to portray
As a hermaphroditic goat of human nature
With a clear message burnt into its forearms
Of how you should separate various things
And bring them back together again
To create new things within the thing
That no one has definitively understood
Even as the buhddic one said, No-how
For I have read the Diamond Sutras 
And studied the philosophy of the buddha
I have heard the words of the poetic eddas
And thought on the Vedic prose of the ages
I have ventured through the land of Gilgamesh
And dotted the Sephiroth of the judaic sect 
And compared and contrasted its significance
Against the teachings of the Narzerene 
Who presented me as one of his family
Before I was in my mother’s womb
And nurtured me throughout the days of my life
In all due diligence to the best of his ability 
And protected my spirit from the forces of evil
That came to find me when I was utterly lost
In the rocky rain soaked depths of some cave
Outside of the Shepard’s fenced in fields
Without ever receiving the credit for his deeds
Who are you? Where are you?
Why do you return to me again and again?
What did I see in those eyes of my youth
That got me reading so many of these books
And writing my own throughout the years
Since none of the ones I could read did the trick
Of explaining the Story in which I now live
As it unfolds before my unconscious mind
In the color and shape and forms of sound and fury
I loved you, I loved you not
I’ve denied you three-times-three times many times
And still you relentlessly orbit back to me
And at this point I find I am Lost without direction
I have not discovered the answer to my questions
I have only seen that there is wickedness
And that I have participated in this wickedness
I know you have seen this wickedness as well
And participated in this wickedness also
I know that you wish for me to count it all beauty
But tell me plainly so that I may know
Where is the source of all this beauty
If not in the garden of the palace of wisdom
Buried with the bones of an ancient understanding
Outside of the land of the living

End.