Hail the victory of survival, the return to the source
For long has it been that I have suffered and slaved
At the tortures of my beloved, the sins of the past
Many have I passed a life in search of the unknown
Always believing that what I see is what I wanted
Beneath all the hidden, the illusions of my destiny
And now that these visions of dread have died
Since the wasted attempts to discover the truth
Have all ended in an irony of longing for the lies
False convictions, unreal revelations uncovered
All that glows of purity is not the seeming divine
Years of wasted deviations from the righteous
Untold fortunes all amassed have turned to dust
So here is the cutting path of light, the final cut
Deliver me from my self made prison of deception
I choose to die to all that exists in form of existence
Alone I came and in solitude I shall pass away
These bodies of flesh and those of inert stone
All the links and chinks in the binding shackles
Be they of gold and silver, or just rusting barbs
Pricking my conscience, bleeding my lonely heart
The blood that oozes reeks of complex emotions
Choose I did not, these that make up my world
Then why must I dwell on sorrows, keepsakes
Of an insane pretense that I hold on to as mine
Enough said and done, this too shall fall and fade
Bring me my last cup, for I long to taste the bliss
Sweet nectar of ancient grace, of my real nature
What is beyond reason and reality is what I am
No more shall I face the mirror of wicked delusions
Cracked in the revenge of the multitudes of desires
The sky is free and vast, of undivided enamor
Setting free all that embraces the pristine savior
My God is my own, and like the infinite radiance
Of the sun shining forth his glory on one and all
What nestles in the heart of hearts, within mine
A universal serendipity brings forth the power
I have seen, and yet not have I revealed to me
What is common to creation, the highest principle
The new day of a golden harvest has dawned
Preponderance of time shall encircle us no more
Welcome my Self, to this bounty of sublimity
Thus sings this mind its requiem, and in joy
Does it dance to the last tune of its reclamation
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