The Occultist

Entering the gate.
Remembering the North Pole and back.

At the crossroad for Truth or Power
In the maze of our lives
An occultist has returned
And kneels to repent
A white owl is standing
In a night full of stars
Lights and Ufos we can’t see
They all look to find
God streaming through a man
In the middle of Brazil
Humans pray for long hours
Their scrutinize their wars inside
And meet here to make peace
With the path of the diseased
Flashes of rain and a hot sun
On top of the hills
A horse is watching
Marginal people
Staying or leaving
Toward another entrance
Seeking the Gold






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