When tempered soul sits in the midst of the sacred shambles,
Like the tender glow in the depth of the wild, and you manage to smile instead of to sigh.
When we are plugged in the dream of a fog,
Like hasten unease, and your spirit, inflamed, composed and appease.
When trial comes as fast as a breeze,
Like a gripping untamed tease and you carry-on like the beautiful bee towards where the flower seize.
And in a cesspool, dark and murky, a lotus blooms, as it maintains its beauty while its fragrance spread in crystal clarity.
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