There are two worlds, a perfect one:
No pain, sorrow, death or suffering.
Close to the source, life flows,
But here, no freedom.
In perfection, self denied.

There are two worlds, a free one:
Choice, agency, autonomy and change.
Separation from the source, life ebbs,
And here, chaos.
In freedom, self dies.

There are two worlds, two collide:
The source attends in lover’s guise.
The source absorbs the chaos,
And here, free and perfect,
In lovers embrace, self is prized.

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