75
This world no more endures than thou or i, only the maker for 'twas he who loosed its soul and thine to learn,
From whence came all, to where all go, the destiny, the end.
And should'st thou not learn from whence all pain doth spring, as ripple follow ripple so doth pain forever follow pain.
Till freed from sensuous yearnings, thy heart to god returns, this is the final conquest, this is the final end.
76
And thus was man made and placed in this garden of iram fair, with his soul to comfort and give cheer, till death makes free again.
He in this inverted bowl is poured, and there must remain 'tis said, till dust to dust returns again and that freed soul has winged its way to where the deathless dwell.