The terrain is rough,

And tough on the manifested dream.

Winding roads and scary forests,

Tigers of thoughts, and lions of lovelessness,

Thorns of terrible pain, sands of coarse senses—

The seeming destination is reached.

Forgetfulness envelops the darkness;

Wherefrom was the arrival made?

Time arrives with suddenness,

And the need to take another journey dawns.

Another destination, another blankness—

When will the destination be reached?

Routes were wrong, directions absent,

Goals unknown, drowned in unreal solidity.

The proper Time will arrive, which will guide:

Everything will be lighter, right doors will be opened,

The path will be full of gardens and flowers,

And the Real destination will be reached.

Either wait or work for it.