This life it weighs on thee.
Bound to material,
the physical we endure combatively.
Earth-born all is ephemeral.
Ancient works uncovered,
only intensify a burden.
We are fallen angels unfeathered,
—of that I am certain.
Two into one, of three we be.
Yet unto one a return,
and of three they see.
Of transcendent planes we yearn.
Mortality the prescription,
sense perception an unawakened state.
Past loves I’m missin’-
dwelling on the things I hate.
Of those from within,
and those of without.
Some just trying to win,
others filled with doubt.
On heavens light we pretend,
the end we cannot comprehend.
Seek and ye shall find,
an aeon not bound by time.
