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In vino veritas, the rite begins—
A whisper stirs where silence spins.
By thyrsus, scroll, and sacred tune,
This work shall rise—manifestum soon.

Evohé resounds beneath the sky,
The chorus lifts its hymn on high.
Through ivy paths the vision flows,
The mystery comes, yet still it grows.

Evohé! the chorus cries,
Through sacred groves the vision flies.
Exstasis stirs, the scrolls align—
The work shall rise in Bacchus’ time.

Inceptum waits, the seed is sown,
By sacred hands the path is shown.
Festum calls, the masks rejoice,
Soon the work shall find its voice

Exstasis divina weave the way,
The scrolls of Bacchus yet to play.
By vine and staff the rite is spun,
The work shall rise, not yet begun.

The vine is green, the song is near,
The dance of Bacchus shall appear.
In time the hidden scrolls will bloom,
The rite is coming—soon, soon, soon