For The Freedom-At-Hand.

Lyrics

The generative matrix holds the fuel in latent state, awaiting conservation’s key to transmute and elevate. No dissipation’s leak can feed the inner flame, only retention’s discipline ignites what once lay tame. Pranayama’s bellows fan the spark with rhythmic might, meditation’s crucible refines the vital light. The ojas rises pure, the serpent wakes from sleep, ascending channels clear where consciousness runs deep. Illusions born of waste dissolve before this force, projections fade when genuine experience takes its course. The fire consumes the dross of mechanical trance, liberating essence from the wheel of endless chance. With building power now the cadence shifts and flies, the being self-illumined claims its sovereign skies. No borrowed light remains, the source within supplies the beacon for the lost, where suffering finally dies. The essence slumbers deep while ego weaves its cage of night, misusing vital force to feed the cravings that ignite. No doctrine or belief can spark the Gnosis that is right, only meditation’s discipline dissolves the false in light. Pranayama fans the flame retained from prior sacred art, inquiry between the thoughts reveals the space where freedom starts. Cognizance transforms the defects, ending their controlling part, as Prajna dawns and shows that emptiness and form are not apart. Temporary ecstasies in astral realms or heavens high cannot replace the total death of “I” that lets the spirit fly. Humanity does not evolve but sinks in ego’s lie, yet persistent inner work produces liberation’s sky. The cadence quickens as the final seals begin to break, the being merges with the source no longer bound by fate. Serene the mind, the heart at peace, the body free from ache, returning to Ain Soph where nothing binds and all awake. This absolute emancipation shines as beacon for the bound, having paid the price in effort where true freedom is found. The goal of every genuine path, the end of suffering’s round: the flame, once retained, now liberated, claims its crown. Deep in the veiled laboratory of flesh and bone the work begins unseen, where lead of personality awaits the fire that makes it clean. The Mother’s gentle heat and life’s appointed pressure pulverize the dross, as prayer and acceptance turn the forge’s trials into gold across. No external furnace serves the hidden art; the chamber is the living core, where union’s vapor rises and the old self decomposes more and more. The quintessence wakens in the darkness of putrefaction’s night, ascending as the purified essence claims its sovereign right. The rhythm builds as dissolution yields the stone the wise have sought, the fusion with the divine completes what ego’s lie had wrought. No temporary gleam remains when true transmutation takes its hold, the being stands as living gold, the ancient mystery told. This is the secret path where suffering itself becomes the key, unlocking doors long sealed within the temple of the free. The alchemist who labors thus returns to Eden’s light, the laboratory’s triumph shining through the restored inner sight. When the vessel breaks and breath returns to source, the mask of self falls away, exposing the essential force. Stripped of flesh and name, the essence enters shadowed spheres, where circular eternity replays the sum of all our years. Retrospection unfolds the scroll in reverse from death’s decree, each hidden motive weighed in halls where truth alone is free. The karmic scales of Maat balance every deed and thought, determining the path the wandering essence must be brought. Three doors await the unprepared who slept through mortal days: a fleeting rest in luminous realms where pain and worry fade, immediate rebirth to continue what was left undone, or plunge to lower worlds where fire refines what ego spun. Yet those who forged attention while the heart still drew its beat awaken in these states, their consciousness complete. No longer bound by cycles born of unexamined night, the essence claims its sovereignty and walks in living light. Prepare the inner flame while time remains within your hand, dissolve the false accretions that obscure the sacred land. For death unveils what life has built; let essence understand the scales await the prepared, and freedom is at hand.