The Magus In His Dark Sanctuary.
In the ninth hour, he rang the bell
This night of power, shall be a heavenly hell
All light shall be devoured, as the Magus
compels.
The bell hath stopped, incense is lit
The blood shall drop upon the black wick.
Smoke has risen, there is a shift in air
Now there is a flood of visions,
That too the mundane is but a nightmare.
The bowl has been struck, waves vibrate
He lifts the athame up and commands,
The world’s to shake.
Falsehood is revoked, as darkness invoked
Hell is approached, as the demons evoked,
Manifested the devil appears In a crimson
And black cloak, the eyes look upon thee
From the incense smoke.
Hell spawn rises,
in the triangle domain
As he looks into the devils Iris,
The windows of his soul are inflamed.
The Magus stands in control,
centred in the circle,
Confident of the authority of his throne,
As he has now become the eternal,
So within so without,
The merger of the internal and external,
Legions take flight from planes
Considered nocturnal
Among them are the armies
Marching for the agenda of the infernal.
The devils comply, the armies shall heed
All because of the Magus will and belief
The Magus is among you,
Hidden like the serpents deceit.