One amid the roar

We crowded stand before the doorway

Beneath embattled feet

Keys encoded in the motif

Here to transform

The surf-tormented shore of being

Through ritual meditation;

Masochistic recreation

I've been here before

Altered state-dependent recall

Only know the movements

In the moment when the speaker tolls

A sleeper cell:

Enraptured thousands drunk with motion

In collective gnostic calm

Each awaits their own instruction

There is no ancient name

No impression hidden in the margin

Only what you bring in your unconscious

Dreaming within a dream

All we see, reflections of a sacred geometry

Mise en abyme

All it seems gross hyperbole

Significant coincidence to me

O, Servitors!

Relics of the fine-tuned universe

Obsessions born

From once immortal curses

O, Servitors!

Arising from recursive slumber

All their barriers banished;

Of demons unencumbered

No more matryoshka martyrs

Only echoes of our egregores

In our divine reflections

Philosophies of change's force:

A synchromystic revelation

Built upon the golden dawn

That truth's inconsequential

And the ire of reality will be ever unborn