Om Mani Padme Hum

Lord of the burning flowers,
Sparks in the dark sky,
Master of the incandescent,
Wings of the night birds,
You command the moon's wrath,
Lord of the burning flowers,
Smouldering on the endless path.

You, instruct the sun to sear the skies,
The heavenly spheres to dance their path,
Alive,
So restlessly do birds flicker their holy wings,
In the pitch black pool,
That expands from here to neverwhere.

Lord of the burning flowers,
Supernova, take with you yourself,
Take with you your feathers,
And your incandescent birds,
Raise it high as you can reach,
In your little clouded world,
With your incendiary wings.

You, who bade the vortex,
And its all-commanding urge,
You, who bade the lotus on the rippling pond,
Open,
Its fragile petals made of thousand of nothings,
Lo its pearl is glowing,
And you once chose to name her 'moon'.

Take with you your brightest torch,
Take with you all that you made,
Take with you what is not yours,
This is not your real world,
Wake up now, the lotus is forever closed.

You, wretched beast of immolation,
You can only wish that you'd remember what you were,
Trapped with only forgotten imaginations,
Behind eyes the colour of frozen nebulae,
Before a wall from stone unknown.

You have no jurisdiction here,
Any more, take with you your body we might see,
This, now wild and withered without you,
You destroy what you no longer,
Know but in your mind,
Wishes would that you blow the mist away,
Stroke the sacred birds that illuminate the endless ocean,
Let no ships disturb your waters,
Nay, the ice,
Let you be what you may not be,
Until you call upon that name.