MySelf to pieces split and cleaved,
o'er the grave he stood bereaved.
When salvation seemed so close at hand,
he saw confusion in the plan;
Two halves of One he must retrieve.

The Seven Lights he sought to find,
suspended east-ward in the sky.
When once or twice he, free of fear
spied his heart out chasing deer;
he knelt - trembling before the lie.

Breathing slowed - the flowing saddle
in which he rode, abreast Death's rattle.
The numbers upward, did he climb
from six to seven, eight to nine;
symbols of a timeless battle.

In purgatory now I wait
for Flame of Hell or Heaven's Gate.
Strange personalities within vibrations,
a Cosmic Gong to heal Death's Station;
I stand my ground - I forge my fate.

Wherefore art thou Chariot I ride,
that which I've been given, hidden by the sky?
A Sphere of Mirrors w/ no sides,
into my tear of fire doth collide;
A temperamental Horse I ride.

A silent gong
Of all things wrong

Echo's through my empty eyes
Pushing out pain filled cries

The silent only defeating me
From all hope of me to be

One soul to awaken
Two souls to make love
Three souls officiate a family
Five elements to keep in balance
Eight gateways to filter through
Thirteen to make it true
Twenty-one to set in stone
Thirty-four to seven the circuitry in I AM the will atones