Infused with grace.  There was no more longing 

Trumpet fire.   Trumpet siren songs

Reaching out across the wilderness 

Limiting the impact of misperceived fate

This is how we would walk on our flattened feet

Without toes to seek out the balance 

Because we have all the direction that we need

From the inner core of eternal light,

Of eternal lifefullness

That is how we would breed the future from the past

Without any recriminations, and without any expectation 

This is how we would halt our concerns for the future 

And diving down once again into the flyby lifefullness

Of never once again expecting, speculating 

Or directing the pathway of our toeless feet towards

Some imagined drawn out map of fate

I would have been less than regressed before this time 

Before the ego rotted the soul with mindless, 

Lustful, greed filled expectations 

The eye has no attainment to compassion, and

The ego only a selfish vagrant vehicle 

Trapped inside what can transpire

To infuse the ego with the completion of 

A desirous act

It was the ego that drew me down to this 

Macabre platform stage of 

Lustful greed

From the fate trafficked aura of just some young child

Wrapped up in the delusional aspiration 

Of arising forth into

Life in this material world

How I eloquently constructed this pyramid 

Of drawn out expectations, 

Of how I created the contrived masterpiece 

Of this brutal samsara cycle 

Ego evolution

Weighing me down until I am now trapped in the

Triangular apex of this pyramidion 

Even though I would no longer shout 

And regurgitate the penitential 

Confusion of the wrath of this cycle of existence

I am still tapped in the prison lifetime 

Of having built the pyramid 

So that I believed I could rest in some

Vestibule of comfort at the top of

My materialistic world of building blocks

There is no resting in comfort 

There is only trapped in the triangular apex

Of egoic imprisonment 

But I know now that I can step outside 

I know now that I can seethe and breathe

The infusion of light from the grace of the 

Reconstructed soul

I know that I can telegraph my existence

Across these fertile planes 

That I can come to a resting place

Within the penumbra of kindness, compassion 

The satellite of love 

Away from the compression of the ego

That I can stand and sing and shout 

Without any lingering absence of the soul

There is no more hibernation in the darkness 

There is only a plummeting down through the tunnel of darkness 

To transform into, transmigrate into

The passageway of light

We are not sinners

We are not fate warriors

We are only chaplains of doubt

Who have been reinvigorated with the compassionate infusion 

Of trust and faith 

No longer a quested agnostic prophet

Only a simple anchorite monk

Sitting on the threshold of light 

Awaiting for the repeated circumnavigation 

Of the truth through the patternless pathway 

Away from organic flesh 

Into the eternal, never shutting down or closing away the 

Transmigrated course of perpetual light 

Becoming one with all around

Like simple atom plummeting down 

From the cycle of fusion fission 

That engages everything with the indescribable 

Ever ready brightness of deliverance