To chase the rabid hunger of the flesh
and the yellow gold of the world’s fleeting days,
is to wander blind through the charcoal smoke,
where the soul’s light fades as the sun’s falling rays.

Cravings howl like wolves at the forest’s edge,
all desires mock as fool’s gold in a stream;
and the soul that follows shall find no home,
only a broken mind and an empty dream.

Stay faithful as the river flowing home
to the silent stars above the further field
where the heart lies waiting, patient and deep,
beyond the flesh and its transient yield.