Prophecy of the Golden Child

Gaia in white flame burns Yaldabaoth himself spurns A second cycle turns The Golden Age returns The first-begotten son Comes down from heaven’s sun Barbelo, Armoured Queen Look gently at this scene Of Christ’s birth long foreseen In this iron machine Hearts of iron will melt Hearts of gold will be felt Hearts, gold and meek Will rule from the word’s peak Valis will rule and speak With the lute of mystique This birth in mystery Will be our victory As Polloi rules here The first child will appear Clearing the mist of fear Every past sin and tear Will be washed away Clearing a narrow way The world soul will rain down Hedera all around Lilies to make a crown Acanthus for renown Myrrh, gold, and frankincense Without any expense All goats will return home All blind cobras that roam Will be under death’s dome Miles under farms and loam Sheep will not fear lions Men will see aeons In the stream of Dead Sea He’ll become a man free Oak trees will weep honey On every wild thorn-tree Grapes will turn Persian plum Gold will be the plain’s sum But iron will remain At sea, war ships will reign Wars will bring pain Walls will cover the plain But when you will grow up Gaia will drink the cup Please, come soon, in our plight You, the viceroy of might The globe bows to your light The earth and the blue height Beseech you to be set free From Yaldabaoth’s dark sea You, our lord and brother Child, smile at your mother Speak words from the Father If your lips will not stir No light will bless your wine And wisdom shall not shine (Gnostic poem based on the ancient Roman Virgil's fourth eclogue, often interpreted as foretelling the birth of Christ)