Wreathes - The Great Gate | Текст песни

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• Wreathes
• The Great Gate

The Threshold:
The Great Gate
Most holy:
A flood's weight.

We Depart.
Birth:
Our fate.

Like clustered pearls strung round our necks,
the Universe corrects.

A binding force, a yoke, union.
The Seventh Ray risen.

Of this one thread: guidance, ruling;
do not let go wrestling.

A string of arms, anchored, knotted.
We must mind well, seated.

A cord so tense pulled through the star
We vigilant, unbar.

This chain fixed in our hearts, our minds.
Yet so scarce it spellbinds.

Her strand lacing circles of awe.
Our work follows this law.

Her Braid arranged so perfectly.
Light of the world, agree.


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