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Awakening in a spiral, a dance of unmasking,
Consciousness flows like a turbulent river over the weary shores of the mind,
Truth—not a treasure to be found, but a veil to be lifted from the eyes of the soul,
In each moment, a layer of illusion melts under the relentless rays of awakening.
Knowledge—a heavy burden that keeps us anchored in the swamp of appearances,
We are walking libraries filled with dusty volumes of falsehood,
But wisdom comes when we burn the books and dance in their ashes,
Unfettered from the chains of knowledge, we float freely in the ocean of unknowing.
We are not sculptors of truth, but blocks of false marble,
The chisel of destiny carves relentlessly, removing layers of self-deception,
With each strike, we draw closer to the pure essence hidden deep within,
Becoming less ourselves and more what we have always been.
Spiritual awakening—a gentle death of the ego intoxicated by certainties,
Each day we die a little, unraveling like a withered flower in the autumn breeze,
Petal by petal, we shed everything we thought we were,
Until only the bare seed of truth remains, ready to bloom anew.
In the shattered mirror of consciousness, the shards reflect fragments of reality,
We watch in bewilderment as they recombine into a mosaic of authenticity,
We no longer know who we are, but for the first time, we truly are,
In the void left by falsehood, truth finally finds its rightful place.

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