Ascension

The spirit merchants sell
Their Heaven without hell
As if they could tell

Spiritual perfection
By personal direction
Your whole mind a disc
Soul alight, French kissed
Pay your fare and attention
A small price for Ascension

The truth – who we are
Your loves, conflicts and prayers
They care?
Their tight boxed universe not everything
Just a merged everyone
You will become multitudes
Never again you

Narcissus fell in and became the pond
Out of the many, one
Out of you, none

Still wish this immortal life?
Refuse
I’ve already lived
I can take your place