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; and the Prince of Lies can boast.
Appearing to permeate withal, "Simply I,"
the I shall call. You aren't who you thought at all.
Now, into the center 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.