Song of prophecy regarding the return of the Sacred Feminine, the Shekinah.

Would that Morisot and Manet
Themselves had lived to see the day
The thirteenth hour again came 'round
And babes were birthed without a sound.
How grand our gods who honour earth,
Who tend the moon and universe;
How grand the sight of Ali's throng,
They bless our world in dance and song.

The hour nears, seers didst foretell
When Light shall shine, when peace shall dwell
In our hearts whence from our lips
The sound of trumpets shall eclipse
Sweet tears of angels and saints' lament,
Peace sliced by swords of discontent.
Into this slough Artemis now sends
This child of destiny who shall transcend.

The Northern Star shall point thy way
To this child asleep upon the hay
Dreaming dreams of elephants,
Dashing hopes of sycophants;
For religion finds no cheek here,
Just love, kindness and faerie cheer.
For Ali's born as seers proclaimed
To steal our world from mordant blame.

So rejoice! And merry meet!
The hour nears, this child to greet.
A silent song. A mother's tear.
A joyful ending, but have no fear.
The stars will shine, the birds will sing;
For to this world God's love shall bring
A child to heal, this little girl;
Earth begins anew as dreams unfurl.