In the bardo

Resting in our natural state, as both feeble form and vast space, mood and mode, release and embrace, we watch thought forms rise and abate, soon doomed to die, for that’s their fate, doing nothing steps we retrace, back to heart where boons of God’s grace, bestow bliss as our soul’s true trait. Life as impulsed still continues but now in this dream we’re awake, at ease in this world’s shifting hues, in time stretched peace, calm like a lake. With light of Self to us revealed, no secrets are from us concealed.