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The musicality of being is the clear tone of a bell
Destroying all mist which rises from below
It is the slashing sword which rends aside the veils of ignorance
Which cuts the power of Mara.

Not mercy but destruction
Do not keep it, but dissolve it
The curves of blindness are dangerous as a poisonous snake
Ignorance is not tolerated by the wise
It is eliminated.

In clarity only is there truth
No being, no form, no idea
Can be more important
Purify ruthlessly, cut off the tubers
Of slimy desires which ever cling
Growing, like mold upon the pure.

Swamp tendrils ever curl up the arms of the wanderer
Hands rise up out of the muck, pulling him under
Alluring eyes call him forth,
Smiles beckon, and infinities of illusions rise up to him
To pull him down.

Do not give in, do not listen to the coiling voices
They are hollow, like spiderwebs, they are empty of knowledge
They are the knots of endless form, calling down food
That they may glut themselves.

Wanderer along the path to heaven
My task is to aid you
If you are pure, my sword and knowledge
Are at your disposal
If you yearn after purity, yet cannot escape
The barbed tendrils and strangling life-slime
Meditate upon me, for my life is virtuous and my mind is free
Like an icy mountain lake, or a clear autumn evening
No illusions may exist around me.

I am the shining jewel where no dust may settle
I am one trunk, with no branches
I do not scatter my energy in wasteful forms
Nor do I allow clouds to rest before me
I am clarity and wisdom, without blight.

I inspire the strong and noble
Who shun deception, and favor truth
For the world is full of lies
And the clear sword of Truth is needed
To pierce its darkness.

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