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The Way
I cry,
How hard is darkness!
My candle,
My candle is exceeding sorrowful
Even unto death.
No one is concerned with it's light.
No one regards the burning.
Straight is the gate and narrow is the way
Which leads into life
And few there be that find it.
Prepare ye the way for this light,
The light that emanates from the depths
Of the spirit
So darkness will not heap on
And the spirit will not be blind,
Floating without guidance,
Remaining in this position
Between death and birth.
Copyright © Munir Mezyed
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