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Sign of Osiris Risen (Lord Vicar)

Collecting pieces of what once was me, she joins them silently by hand She works her way on the familiar figure, I feel the pressure, an urge to see Extreme heat inside the coffin home, carried through the dying land I know my son because I swallowed his eye; this was the moment, my mind set free: Lord of Love, Lord of Silence, Lord of the Dead. A process of imitation, return of vegetation through the flood. His backbone and His river, a Sacred Ram kept in His memory. The Soul of the Lord, of the pillar of Stability. His genitals divided, worshipped His will, His fertility. Gloomy, solemn, mournful actions for the rebirth of the grain. Sister in the sorrow, sharing His Kingdom with the Dead. If wheat and clay were transformed, He will always be the Perfect One. This was all revealed to me in the movements of a ritual Hooded figures guiding me through the moments of despair Witnessing the sign of silence, I understand the union: Between man and a woman there’s a return Nail by nail and bone to bone, he is to be complete again Like a beast he is reborn: On his feet and near perfection Blood is rushing through his veins, his heart now beats with pain Shivering, this deadly form, he dreams with open eyes Hand in hand we rise and pray for those who came before us We will let our love burn and our slaves will lose their sight Resurrecting heavens vast we reflect the light that once was Horrid is the might we bear as we strike back the night Hope that you can hear the same strong and brave voice that I heard The order of the guiding signs remains the same, just like above All I said throughout the night, I did mean every word Can you share this mystery with me, my only true love?