Let it go . . . all of it that doesn’t matter; shed the old skin so full of scars
It’s alright to live and breathe without thought
The rising of the sun and the daylight it brings doesn’t mean the end
of the night’s sky full of stars
This duality, this awful dichotomy must end
Not long ago, it was death that you sought
So don’t reach a hand to help save a fist and a Self filled with rot
It’s an invitation to a diseased past,
a guilt-heavy ally you don’t want to defend
Let it go and empty out the world
Feel the cool, light breeze and allow it to cleanse
With every old trait and prize and thing held dear
comes the eventual weight and mask and chains of fear
The burdens of chaos, confusion, and strife . . .
circling, cycling, and repeating a Hell you thought was through
You pass the same ugly mirrors and wish for the end and beg for respite
A thousand years of sleep to escape this endless, painful, cycling life
But the end isn’t death, nor death a mercy . . .
If only you could shed the robes of personality, the mock-jewelry of karma
hanging like rotted fruit from a tree of Game Reality; Samsara
Give it up, surrender and step free
It will all be there for you still, if greed is the face in the mirrors you see . . .
But greed for what?
That thing you want dead, this fortune of fate?
For the illusion of soul, you’ve wept and have bled
These pleasures of flesh and wealth for what?
To dream of the death of the things you create?
The Ego-hidden truth of the world lies in wait
Give it up, let it go, before it’s too late.