Shadows flicker on the room’s wall,
Chains of comfort blind the eyes.
A glow, a false fire sears the story,
Burned deep within the mind.
Chains of comfort blind the eyes.
A glow, a false fire sears the story,
Burned deep within the mind.
Yet hunger stirs where silence breaks,
A thirst no shadow’s play can quench.
The inward eye turns toward the flame,
And stumbles upward into pain.
The veil dissolves, design appears—
The hive, the root, the common bond.
Each citizen a pulse of earth,
Each hand a weight the cosmos feels.
Awareness not materialized will fade,
For truth demands an earthly form.
From ash to seed, from thought to hand,
Creation rises, fierce and warm.
The shadows bow to ancient flame,
Beyond the room, the stars arise.
Illusion fades, the Source remains,
Light cascading through us all.
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