The nascent stage of assimilation,
when one celebrates and imagines
the bells of triumph loud in the mind.
For he has the world on and in his palm.
Roaring with the winds of grief,
Still hitting the rocks to shape them
into the illusion of thyself’s creations.
For his nugatory actions burdens the time.
The present has dismantled the cave,
where the sounds reverbed and echoed
to converge the waves to a loud shrill.
For he needs to wake up into reality.
He, a fool has been transfigured.