Descend to the soul,

It holds the great mirror.

Seeing yourself,

Induces great fear.

But I crave becoming,

And I long for mercy,

Three years have passed,

And I'm now thirty.

Time went by,

And who have I become?

A shell of a man,

One who has become numb.

Does hope come to you in your darkest hour?

Is the Self freed from the highest tower?

Speak to me, I know you're there.

They say you exist in me, as well as everywhere.

A cloud? A mountain? A highest abode?

Will the secret remain always untold?