From the Mud Blooms the Lotus Flower

 FROM THE MUD BLOOMS THE LOTUS FLOWER

I will recount a glimpse of what I feel,
Feeling little of what I say,
With these weary eyes
And this fatigue that prevails.

I threw myself into the arms of someone
I did not know, I partially opened myself
in the bed of someone unworthy,
All of this because inside me it burned
and slowly smoldered.

Ten years of melancholy have passed,
And the vices knocking at my door
weave toxic bonds, marking the soul
with agony, sorrow, and apathy.

I withdrew to feel stronger,
And I grew stronger, weaving threads of purity.
But little by little, I lost myself,
until I found the monster again.
So weak I was, that to it, I surrendered.

Fallen to the ground, in the painful abyss,
I looked up and saw a young man’s smile.
I cleansed myself once more and embraced
the practices of an ascending soul.

The candles on my altar burn brighter
within me, for I have learned that there,
the flame must never fade.

I raised the walls,
rebuilding my sanctuary.
Because, after the storm,
I saw the garden as completely perfect.

And within me,
oh, Eternal Father
I beheld the immensity,
returning peacefully
with my feet above the ground.