| Wrapped up in pain,
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| Entering a dark pillar hall,
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| with the most exquisite marble,
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| polished and sparkling since thousands of years,
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| I hear the echo of emptiness…
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| Cautiously I step across the empty floor,
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| but I notice, uneasy, that my footfalls are soundless.
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| Scared I hurry into the next hall…
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| There are statues of pure gold,
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| decorated with the rarest of gems.
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| There they stand magnificent and glorious,
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| watching the sky…
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| Though there is something which worries me and at last I stop and see what it is…
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| What I watch is the bitter face of loneliness.
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| The cold embrace feels to the innermost corner of my soul.
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| Was beauty nothing but cold?
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| What I found beautiful, was it just icy winds?
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| Was this the room I had been looking for so long?
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| Was this the place where freedom lives?
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| My way went on into wilderness,
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| along the well-known path called Confusion…
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| After a dark night I approached the big gate,
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| though I was astonished when I saw that it was more than a gate.
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| I arrived at a crossroad with two golden gates.
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| Gift… Mystery…
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| Who built them there?
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| What was Remembrance in this?
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| I am struck by their temptation,
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| the inviting power which attracts my innermost thoughts.
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| Stunned by this powerful experience
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| and grateful for it I remain hesitantly at the crossroads.
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| Which path is my way?
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| Which gate is the opening to the life I wanted?
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| Oh, Jesus Christ…
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| I seek Thy Divine wisdom,
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| I bow before Thy advice…
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| May Thy hand lead a wavering heart
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| May Thy word be a torch on my path… |