I would bind myself to the nine yards of tradition
Be the pious, the paragon of virtues,
The religious, regimental and the ritualistic
To rest my faith;
In the midst of this humbug
The smoke from the altar that rises high in the air
If it could sanctify my being too
I would submit myself to the nine yards of tradition
That would help me surrender to the Oneness
The humility that personifies a human
The incantations that would open me up to the universe
In those nine yards of tradition, do I see that light?
Yet, I am wound up in those layers,
Mystic but entangling like an ascetic’s matted hair
If my incantations of this verse could enlighten
Liberate the soulful song of bliss, into infinity
The Origin, is it from these nine yards of tradition?
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