In ritual evil gets it's ego stroked

In ritual, evil gets it's ego stroked;

Fires attended in brassy censors,

Choking on expensive foreign smoke;

Incense from a dead god's pagoda.

Evil lives because we do not mind it;

We find it necessary to find a balance:

A world half in fire, and half in ice;

Good and evil held in a chalice.

In evil, man gets his karma coded;

Fires which started in his spinning core.

All his idols and statues got melted

So he sits and stares at a tattered mandala:

Though meditation gave him indigestion,

And worry beads worried too much.

He's not the sort to mind temptation;

He sits to wait for emancipation.

In man, abstraction has reached it's limit;

He's the whole world, and it's in him.

Enlightenment comes in a single minute;

His mind like wispy smoke spiraling upwards,

For questions always are answer seeking,

And answers elusive as desert rain:

The freedom you seek was never in death,

But free and invisible, as each breath.