An experience before I,
One must at least try.
So I may die
Then All shall fly.
Because action without tact
Is an act masked in fact;
Your sight seen as cracked
And the blind will always react.
An experience before I,
As within we incide the tie
With out the mutiny of I
The self will multiply.
Transparent the self must be
Then All is seen as Thee.
When light has pierced your three
The experience before I is set free.

When I die
Mama don't cry
I'll still be here
On the highest tier
Gone from memory
Free from worry
No straddling of duality
No tears of joy
Just an opaque mind
Returning to its kind
So take this body home
Before I turn to stone
Wrap it up
And fill my cup
Find my stead
A lonesome shed
Beyond the hill
Lest you abandon my will
I know you tried
Every turn taking my side
Without knowing why
A mother's love to see her infant fly
And I wish that I
Was never born to die
But long before I came to be
In your slumber I asked to be set free
So let me live this life
Though it may be tough
Let me show you something
Not of this living
Abreast your chest
Within your crest
A sylvan right
Stained by blight
Let me live this life
By the sweat of my strife
And take you with
Until His Majesty cometh
Because this will was carved on stone
And I alone
Will carry it out
I alone will wither and sprout
Leaving nothing behind
Nothing of my kind
And before dawn breaks
Before the shepherds ear aches
Borrowed oar in hand
Past the shore I stand
In the hands of dylan
In search of man
I leave the land
To part with the facade
No hope of Salvador
I believe this is what I saw
Death at the hands of a friend
The end.

The advent day has come
And with it a lonesome
Fellow cloaked in black.
He trudges back
And forth; unseen by brailing sirens,
The gazing and scavenging talons.
He sways the crowd
By swelling the cloud,
Dispersing the onlookers
With the phobia of ombros.
Only the shepherd of the dead
Knows the folk lore of the serpents head.
"Ready my carriage," he says
"This soul is destined for better days.
Leave the body behind.
Let it stew with dust and sylvan kind
So seed may sprout, decay and replenish
Its androgynous abode afresh.
And I may keep a promise,
Finding solace within my grimace.
O' friend of mine;
Take a sip of cordial wine,
And rise from your pale souvenir,
Embellish your wings and climb the firmament tier.
Scour the stars, sun and moon's face
For the heaven promised beyond space.
The home of saints and martyr;
And when this path leads to a furnaced altar,
Know this as your fate
For going through the narrow gate.
A prudent soul you were not,
Always chasing the Dharmic knot.
By the power vested in me
I set your spirit free."