“We are obsessed with empty truths without works,
And Thauma, true to life, such dogma denies.
Anxious we are to reveal, that which is covered.
In every forgetful assembly, for us it is revealed,
fictitious, that World servant of vain detachment,
and redeemed desire, our body yearns.
Superb fulcrum, of insane mind, is now tedium,
here new dream-seeds we grasp.
Inexhaustible source, unsurpassed and only remedy.
The world perceived is the arcane simulacrum,
Of that fallacious experience we believe the offence.
Theatre of shadows, reality of a distant demon.
The Thauma is what we claim,
We shall be born with disclaiming that which is denied,
True answer is of what we are”
verses from the poem “Thauma, or of regeneration”
