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A spiral orbit circumnavigates the axis |
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Fragments, threads of the origin's shape |
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The dreary synopsis of an aeon-old praxis |
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Encircles the thoughts from which minds escape |
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"And when my soul and spirit unites |
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in a oneness of the four elements |
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I'll be the magician of cosmic rites |
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Using astral instruments" |
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Like the released psyche of the creator |
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Swirling around the origin's indicator |
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Visions from the spiral generator |
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E.S.P. Mirage! |
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I intersect the shining pulsator |
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When I travel in this spirit simulator |
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Receiving visions from the generator |
|
E.S.P. Mirage! |
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Perplexed by the questions of our existence |
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The patterns in external reality |
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Formulas along an unthinkable distance |
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Force the thinking into unexplored philosophy |
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An entity which spins in the galaxy hurricane |
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With a plasticity changing by the age |
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The director of periodic meteor rain |
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Which seems to be framed by a mathematical cage |
|
Like the released psyche of the creator |
|
Swirling around the origin's indicator |
|
Visions from the spiral generator |
|
E.S.P. Mirage! |
|
I intersect the shining pulsator |
|
When I travel in this spirit simulator |
|
Receiving visions from the generator |
|
E.S.P. Mirage! |
|
Mother to events so violent |
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But as no one hears it, it may be silent |
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"Therefore my thinking I'll incubate |
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and search in the duality of I and Me |
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'cause from trumpets you can alienate |
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But from silence you can't flee" |
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Remotely viewing other planes |
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Using my mind's eye to gaze |
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As I detect the spiral's stains |
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In microbes, mountains and every inch of space |
|
Like the released psyche of the creator |
|
Swirling around the origin's indicator |
|
Visions from the spiral generator |
|
E.S.P. Mirage! |
|
I intersect the shining pulsator |
|
When I travel in this spirit simulator |
|
Receiving visions from the generator |
|
E.S.P. Mirage! |
|
Trembling before its divinity |
|
It may be larger than infinity |
