Children of technocracy invoke synthetic spiritsPlastic crosses choke perspiring necksMAAT – I cast dices, but curtain of future is still hermetic closedRise! Rise up my Soror, and you, my Father -High! Towards the stars when the white fireWhich purifies and melts all false sacramentAshes` power equal thousands sunsMysterys` structures are like chaos of knownObjectivism is subjective mandala of realityFractals – flaming spaces consume ego`s orderKaos Keraunos Kybernetos