It is the routine of a seeker-- sifting through the rubble of the soul bent on instant gratification, gripped in the act of spiritual masturbation. What is this, me, my relation to sky earth, the curse of duality & the lies that I cling to? Jesus saw redemption 'pon the cross-- suicide or the cleansing of sin? Circumstance, our final actions the result of chance. Why must we seek meaning to the dance of our yearning against the background of the universe? Let the worried thoughts disperse, grab hold of that source of inebriated ease, breathe deep, 'n do what you please-- spend too much time considering the steps & you'll find that you missed the chance to cross toes with those prettier than yours. Simplify & defy the admonitions of those clucking tongues & preaching superstitions-- they have a need to conform everyone to themselves; it justifies their denial in the face their own madness. Don't look up to the sky & do not bother looking down. Keep thy eyes forward & be calm, snort the infinite lines of cosmic dust, pay attention to the foggy horizon, 'n soon enough you'll see the sun rise.