Krashing Kharma

I have come curiously close to the end, down beneath my self-indulgent pitiful hole. Defeated, I concede and move closer. I may find comfort here, I may find peace within the emptiness; how pitiful.

And in my darkest moment, fetal and weeping, the moon tells me a secret, my confidant; As full and bright as I am, this light is not my own and a million light reflections pass over me. Its source is bright and endless; she resuscitates the hopeless; with out her, we are lifeless satellites drifting.

And as I pull my head out, I am with out one doubt; don’t wanna be down here feeding my narcissism; I must crucify the ego before it’s far too late. I pray the light lifts me out before I pine away.