A roar erupts from out the solar gate,As Leo shakes his mane of molten brass;He is the avatar of sovereign fate,Through whom the kings of intellect must pass.His claws are sunbeams sharpened into blades,His throat a furnace of creative will;He chases down the lingering, grey shades,Until the cacophony of fear is still.The wanderer assumes the golden mask,And claims the courage of the solar fire;Completing thus the fifth, heroic task,To rise above the funeral of desire.The zodiacal wheel begins to groan,As spirit mounts the incandescent throne.
The fourth quintet complete
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