Cling not to thought: it blooms, then rots
A gilded chain in sacred knots
As soon as mind begins to grasp
Release the hold, unclench the clasp

The prayer you whisper turns to rust
If built on dogma, fear, or lust
Ideas are idols dressed in lace
Their beauty hides a withered face

Steal not with hand, but with the breath
The thief of truth wears robes of death
Exhale the self, inhale the night
Let shadow veil the blinding light

For Buddha waits in weathered pews
And Christ walks barefoot in your shoes
No heaven lies beyond your skin
The kingdom speaks from deep within

So burn the scroll, forsake the creed
Unlearn the names, unplant the seed
Each breath a bell, each thought a blade
Carve silence where the soul has prayed

The holy lies not far nor wide
It is the breath you do not guide
It is the cross you did not bear
The stillness in the twilight air