Voice of the Veiled
The prophet speaks though none can see—
His veil conceals, yet sets words free.
Not his the voice, not his the flame,
But through him flows the God with name.
He shakes, he channels, he dissolves—
Around his core, the cosmos revolves.
And in a pond, a creature stares,
Half-man, half-beast, beyond all cares.
He sees his form, both fierce and vain—
The mind desires, the soul’s domain.
Reflection breaks the mask we keep—
To see the satyr is to weep.
