If Thou dost reveal Thyself unto me,
What shall become of this soul, so wild, so free?
Shall it vanish like the mist before the dawn,
Or rise, reborn, to Thee—forever drawn?

Shall it burn in the light of Thy sacred flame,
And dissolve into Thee, free of worldly name?
Or shall it be lost in the shadow of its own will,
Bound to the earth, though Thy call be still?

In the unveiling of Thy infinite might,
Shall my heart be unraveled, or find its light?
Shall I, in Thy grace, be made whole again,
Or will I, a wanderer, return to the dust and pain?

O' Divine, in Thy presence so pure and vast,
Shall I transcend, or remain, tethered fast?
For the soul that seeks Thee is torn between
The self it was, and the self unseen.

In the echoes of the call of the Beloved,
Shall I soar, or shall I fall, unapproved?
If Thou dost reveal Thy truth to my heart,
Shall I be remade, or torn apart?

For in Thy wisdom, O' Eternal One,
The path is lit, but the end is undone.
Shall I know Thy light, or in shadows remain—
To merge with Thee, or live in vain?