The Freedom of the Fold

The mighty guards of discipline,

Build walls that none may breach;

They map the borders of the soul,

And all that you may reach.

The frantic cries of lawless hours,

Like echoes, fade and fly—

To vanish in the dark abyss,

Beneath the distant sky.

Within your fort, a captive soul,

You gasp in deep despair;

Throw open every window wide,

And breathe the boundless air.

Go, measure out the heavens vast,

And feel the sky’s embrace—

A life of order starts to bloom,

With new and steady grace.

For order is no tyrant’s whim,

Nor rule of iron hand;

It is the silent pulse of life,

That moves across the land.

The sun obeys its golden path,

The rain its rhythmic fall;

The stars are bound by ancient laws,

That govern one and all.

In such a bond, true freedom dwells,

A joy that never dies;

No longer slave to wayward whims,

But master of your eyes.

The rule shall be your charioteer,

And you the warrior soul;

This is the reign of Inner Self—

The spirit’s highest goal.

To the Supreme, I bow in prayer, 

For mercy and for light; 

To grant the soul this steady state, 

And lead us to the right.