This place is a dream. Only a sleeper considers it real. Then death comes like dawn, and you wake up laughing at what you thought was your grief.
There is a King Who is aware of every Mask you put on
Your grief for what you've lost lifts a mirror up to where you're bravely working.
Body of earth, don't talk of earth Tell the story of pure mirrors The Creator has given you this splendor-- Why talk of anything else?
You think the shadow is the substance.
Discard yourself and thereby regain yourself. Spread the trap of humility and ensnare love.