The eyes turn away,
Refuse to see the truth.
Serve them only what is pleasant
At first glance,
And the bright and the dark
As if they were not nearby.

Toward the brightest
They push off from the darkest —
They grasp the truth more widely,
They force the ego-egg’s crack wider.

I am not surprised at birth
And I rejoice at death,
When eternity can be heard
Just before I meet it.