The Temple (From Where Gentle Voices Utter Words of Scorn to the Mob With Forever Closed Eyes)

Behold the temple of frozen rain and a wintry preference
Where the "Self" indulges in impious elegance
There I sculpt the river of imagination
Beyond difference, at the highest degree of sensation

You will bow so low that you shall never rise from the endless snow
Where your bleak eyes decay and you stand alone at the bay
As I transcend opposites and observe your fall
Most sensual, your corpses hanging on the temple wall

How their narrow views amuse me
Oh "I", let their fear amuse thee
Their mouths shall stay silent
For the temple does not tolerate a blind argument

So let´s shed a tear
For my vision is clear
Far at the periphery of my thought
Where most exquisite sights are caught