They call you Father,
even the Sun bows to your flame
for you are the god of stars,
the undying fire in their hearts.
Your eyes, two radiant stars
wherever they fall,
darkness surrenders to brilliance.
Your coming is majesty, your breath is light,
and your name
the most sacred music the world has ever known.
Your hair, in the heavens,
more splendid than the Sun’s own flames.
Each step you take
leaves behind eternal light,
the sacred blaze of the Apollonian truth.
Kindness rests upon your tongue,
eternity lives in your deeds,
and within your wisdom,
an ancient throne.
I call to you in the Temple of Zeus,
and you hear me
for everywhere is his temple,
and wherever there is light,
there you are.
With your sacred harp,
you compose divine symphonies;
music so wild and eternal
that stars spin and burst
in celestial dance.
Play, O elder brother,
let your harp sing the music of the eternal,
that we may chant your names
as verses of divine fire.
Shine and sing
we will answer,
we will rise toward you in flight.
You are a crack of light
in the courtroom of injustice.
You are the bearer of flame
in nights thick with despair.
You are the spring that roars,
its voice guiding every soul
to the silence of peace.
Your hands steer flaming chariots,
and guide my fate as well.
Your eyes, keepers of the secret flame.
With your blazing chariot
you rise against the low, the dark,
against destinies forged in shadows.
The mountain began with the first stone,
the sea with heaven’s first tear,
and I
I began with your first gaze.
Your presence is a paradise,
a passage out of the inferno.
Tell me of flight.
Tell me of song.
For the world is swallowed by night
when you do not shine.
SHAITAN, FROM THE QU'RET AL-YEZID:
"There is no God but myself."
