giggling i dash
phases and i slip passed
cloak caught on mara's thorns
no one looks within
but only at what is worn
follow the barren arrow
toward the ancient barrows
where the winding ways become narrow
and all is resting still

Nothing is what for i asked
where simply i am present
no future or past
And ones mind isn't molded
like an egyption tomb
explicit in caste
but warm in the womb
display shoshin in bloom
to inherent the present's heirloom

and when all is like before it begun
does any other stand higher than one
because if we fight over either
we're bound to be done