Mithra grew strong in the earth, cradled in Gaia’s womb
He sprang forth, like a titan in fullness of form

The hero transcending on the back of a bull
A victim made holy for the sake of us all

Milk flowed from the sacred wound, a stream of light
Sweet as honey, it was the nectar of life

Drawn with a whisper, seal in the truth
Holy Spirit, Sophia, all paths lead to you

Mahatma came to serve the poor, the Great One
Born in conflict, amid strife, like Krishna

The cowherd, armed with the shield of
Knowledge, and the sword of wisdom

Milk flowed from your words as the morning light
Showering the rich and the poor alike

You offered a vision of new possibilities
A united humanity without cast or class

We left it smoldering on the altar

Metis, the sands are falling, each grain a parcel of time
Your sons cleave the day from the dark of night

Prometheus, with one eye on the future
Epimetheus, with his sight on the past

The starry-field is lit, glowing white like spilt milk
The planets stars and galaxies, spinning

We dance around the center and bear witness
Pulling at the glittering tails of comets burning

Mary, blessed mother, a comfort to the fallen
Skipping across the moons bright face

I drink from your cup as it turns me to cinders
And a trillion stars raise their voices to you

Milk flowing from your breast to nourish the anointed
Did you know then who he would be?

The world made him a healer and a tyrant, both
The child you birthed in on a bed of straw

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