Meditating On The Fields of Naraka
Skandha, son of Shiva Mahadeva, sits firmly lodged in samadhi
Awoken to the harsh reality of suffering amid ephemeral qualia
A world set ablaze by impure desires and all our best intentions
Charnels filled with piled-up corpses felled in war, famine or plague
Endless transmigration of finite souls learning lessons for ascension
During darkest times concentrate on those awful fields of Naraka
Pain is a purifier, an agent of both Karma and Dharma
Everything experienced is reciprocal; always balancing out
No one is altogether righteous or evil, innocent or to blame
This plenum of open-ended possibilities refines sentient beings
Cosmic Christ within is perpetually nailed onto crosses
Transcending death despite misleading appearances
Skandha bearing heat from flames, transmutes it to bliss
Defying, nay, reifying unassailable natural laws
Cracked universal egg making way for the phoenix...
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