Seven Circles Of The Son

First, the circle of the land, sun in sky,

moon in hand; time and space to understand.


Next, the circle of the mind, smart to try,

perhaps to find knowledge can't be cruel or kind.


Feeling passion without end - often cry.

Good-bye friend; greetings you will never send.


Circle where the saintly hosts seem to fly

with idle ghosts; the Prince of Lies boldly boasts.


Like it permeates withal, "Simply I,"

the I shall call. You aren't who you thought at all.


Then, into the midst of bliss. Echoing sigh,

soothing kiss of the things you thought you missed.


When you reach the realm of light, low and high,

what is sight? Pass to day and leave the night.


From great distance

I see you

who won't look back.

So, I wonder.

Do you know you can?

Yet, who am I to expect?

Who are you to deny

inverted expansions

where we pool?

As you flounder

in surety of purpose

days go by

evading your future.

Prhana's fools

lose the tide

that would raise us