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Centuries ago In ancient Hermopolis A debate roared loud Between a proud Christian priest And a strange shepherd Who was a Manichaean Wearing ragged clothes And who was looking for sheep “Flames will consume you” The priest roared at the shepherd Because their debate Was going on for eons The shepherd spoke forth “The white flames of the Spirit That the moon shines with Or the flames of your anger” The priest responded “You will see the flames you fear Light a huge fire In the square of this city To be the challenge To see which faith is the truth With heads held up high We will both enter the flames Do you understand” The Manichaean nodded With serenity He requested firewood From the watching crowd Who complied with eagerness To see the truth shine The shepherd set us the pile And prayed to the wood “Forgive me for any pain And may you be saved To be a revelation To be salvation To your brethren now watching” From these gentle words He set all the wood ablaze While shedding a tear The calm Manichaean said “We should both with faith Enter the flames by himself To unveil the truth Since you asked for this trial You shall be the first To taste the flames you produced” The priest's red face scowled As he looked towards the flames He did a short bow And did the sign of the cross He walked to the flames And stood right in the centre The flames split apart And it appeared that no harm Came to his body In the half an hour spent The crowds greatly cheered Believing no miracle Could outshine that one “Shepherd and Manichaean Fall into the flames You will be consumed fully To rise or be burnt” The priest shouted loud with zeal “That vile deceiver Should rightly be burnt alive In Gehenna’s flames” The crowd shouted with anger Already prepared The Manichaean walked in Whispering four words “God, light, power and wisdom” The flames turned pure white Like the full moon’s light at night As he stood in them The flames at his left and right Became two tall men The man on the right wore white He shined with splendour He held a styrax wood staff In his bright right hand And held a book of silver In his bare left hand Next, the man on the left side Wore Persian-style clothes Robes made of vivid colours Of woven rainbows He gave a comforting smile That could make rain stop He also wore seven rings That he made himself With his delicate fingers Both sages whispered To the Manichaean’s ears Words for the elect When their mouths became silent They vanished in flames While the man remained in peace With both his eyes closed The flames became a lotus Shining and open Because of the flamers brightness The ground appeared dark Like a vast ocean at night Not even the sun Could outshine the white lotus The holy man stood With his clothes under his feet With flames clothing him Like fig leaves made of moonlight Then with his right hand He reached out with gentleness To the audience Afraid but also amazed Some walked towards him Most stopped out of human fear But one continued And touched the welcoming hand The flames fizzled out For they all served their purpose To the observers Their world now appeared pure black They thought they were blind For the flames shone so brightly All else appeared dark But this blindness soon vanished And they all bowed down Bowed down to the holy man Their bent legs shaking Their faces touching the ground With warmth the man said “Please do not bow down to me But with open hearts Bow down to the sun setting To the moon rising For they glimmer with the light That inflamed your hearts” So they bowed down to the discs All except the priest Who did not bow to the man At first he was moot Dumbfounded and in despair But fury arose And he said without thinking “Demon! Sorcerer! Your trickery is nothing Demon, look at me The fire did not harm me I’ve done the challenge!” The Manichaean just said “Give me your left arm” In pride, the priest gave his arm The Manichaean Put up the sleeve of the priest And unveiled burn marks Marks in the form of the cross Despair filled the priest “The flames had mercy on you They preserved your flesh Except for your weakest arm To give you a sign Of the suffering you have Daily in your flesh So that you may return home And receive comfort From the paradise of light For your salvation” The lost priest slowly pulled back And wandered away To the distant plains of green When he disappeared They who bowed down to the sun Asked the Manichee “What did the sages whisper” The Manichee said “If I tell you all those words You will stone my flesh And flames shall burst from those stones And shall consume you fully
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