Where dost thou search for treasures?
Oh brethren!
Come of the Illusionary traps
You go in search of great wealth,
building great dreams of ambitions !
You pursue everything knocking head at will!
To probe the science of the future!
or
Melt yourself in the cries of your lost past!
Where thou the Swing has taken you?
Either to make you float or get buried down in debris!
Where dost thou find relaxation and comfort?
In smoke or wine?
Open your eyes and awaken yourself to see the truth of the Age!
Here in the lap of the Almighty mother -
Nothing to do or undo!
Just, be a string to be tuned!
Be the Clay to be mould!
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