ANOTHER WAY TO LIVE

ANOTHER WAY TO LIVE
Counting my steps backward  now,
when the winds recede
and silence speaks
of the language fallen
out of the reach,
a time to pause and look around
mountains of clouds,
hang overhead,
the mist feels,
the arid land.
Nothing grows,
but what has grown,
neither dries nor wilts.
Everything is at a standstill.
Fear from the abyss
grips.
What portals these, what sadness,
what dark mist
awaits me there!
A sad mist, a dark mist, the peace in the mist baffles.
Everything else, out of the focus,
the body answers, not the spirit.
The body recedes, the spirit ascends.
I hear the word I am afraid to speak.
I am a child retracing steps.
Like an astral vision
I can grasp a candle beyond the range
as easily as the one within my reach.
It's the candle now I easily see;
the rest of the things are vaguely seen.
My desire has become the will,
this is another way to live.