Catching a whiff, of something few can smell.
a first step on the shores of an island unknown.

A place from which ironic distance always kept you.
A small boat no longer lost on the ocean of samsara.

Making it to the other side, going afar, for the last return.
One had to go insane,even try to jump, just to remember, one only dies twice.

To be like those
who has escaped the shadows of Plato's cave
the letter finally reaches its receiver.

Just by coming here,
through the eon-fog of countless star blooming nights,
all automatic mechanisms of symbolisation
has come to a halt,
yet you can smell the lotus growing in the mud.

And you would know that you forced your self here,
through the trauma of liberation, a glimpse of the real,
that kind of freedom which hurts all around you.