O' Lord, Where To Go From Here ?

Is There Far, is There Near ?

Is There More "Said" to "Hear" ?

In This Age the "Reason" is So Fake,

And I'm Lost In This Body,

This Birth Too Late !

No Masters, No Love, Nor Pure Dharm,

As All is Lost in Games of Karm;

I'm Trying To Remember, Your Divine Perfect Way,

Though By My Senses, I'm Still Led Astray;

It's Only Garbage on Muddy Ground,

   A Slimy Mess For Demon's Crowns;

Withered Flowers and Shriveled Leaves,

As Foul Scents of Tortured Cows Tinge The Breeze;

Oh, Breath of Hell, That Fills My Lungs,

Why To This Putrid End It's Come;

Oh, Eternal Soul, Speck Beyond Time,

May A Birth In Sva-Loka, Next Time You Find.     || 8 ||