The Spirit of Prophecy comes from the East, like the Dawn of a Golden Sun.
It stays alone in between the sands of times and ruins of ideas, people, fantasies and actions. It has a gentle Soul like a Dancer in a tent. Its richness and beauty is what you just see, being naught beyond and under the veil.
It utters names of invisible Gods and forgotten names, persons who are not anymore and keep the veil as limit, a trust to respect and avail.
Words of a saviour uncrossed.
Lvx Ex Septentrione, Shaikh Al Mahdi