An unbroken line of endless silence,
Seeping through the formless pores of time,
The conscious, unconscious of itself,
The end of both the start and the end,
Fear of this eternal heartsease,
Seeping into the veins of felicity whatsoever,
Shall denude the joy of any for time lasting ever.
If fear none not, mind is away from that you do,
The mind when away shall savvy not the truth,
If truth nay in heed, illusion in nascence.
The illusion of non-causal beingness,
A life without end breeds moments without purpose,
A moment without purpose seeds thoughts without substance,
A thought without substance keels to acts of ignorance.
Such act be evil so, germinates anarchy.
Fear not death, the friend at end,
For the fear of yin shall veil thy yang.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem