After about a thousand years, if you’re lucky,
When what you’ve so piously labeled your Soul reaches adulthood

     & has (however it has)
Imbibed during its reincarnations’ varied osmosēs
All the psalms, pseudo-psalms, & concentrated, enriched platelets

     of metaphysics & the duty & love in it all;

When each of your seven chakras, from the anahata of your heartbeat

To the ajna in your epithalamus, are spinning electric

With a little bit of all things regarding joy & universal truth     

     (most of which couldn’t have been more obvious);

Once you’ve effectuated this,

A third eye will blossomthe eye that sees itself
Your own little Lord Brahma, if you will,

From the lotus of your pineal gland (the sweet spot amid your two currents);

& all the visceral water your Soul has drunk up over the millennia

Will be plucked from this realm of consciousnessthe physical world;

& you will rise into the ether, the loci of life energy,

     where we can get onto the real business at hand.