Can you explain how those sorcerers begin out on the left field,
Opposing all they see to separate,
Later convincing themselves of some kind off Buddhist opinion, which hardly does fit.
If you listen carefully, you'll feel its pull still within them for the world to adjust to their whim and align.
Doesn't seek information which realigns, contests and draws upon the beginnings lenses to see.
The right set out as well, took the long way home.
Found all the pieces the Buddhists left, the sorcerers despised and could not complete, flew high.
The riddle of the heart. Beyond clarities immediate eyes when tied to power,
Even a child could see the pieces , the signs , shining within the waking dream.
Truth is like this, that's why good warriors of ilk may succeed , in their battle.
A stable core , fluid by sight.
When the right hand man returned the left, to where she had forgotten , remembering each other each piece,
Signs were seen everywhere by all with eyes, although many observed, while others saw.
Yet none knew , what pressed beyond the horizons limit, a friend .
Returned a woman and returned to her her man.
