Scale the ladder of the divine
And images born of knowledge
Sink ever by, the slow fading
Of past desires now quieted

Divine it is called by the ancient
Pilgrims, but there are no gods
To aid this climb, for above hovers
The thick cloud of unknowing

Below lies a tumultuous expanse
Churning in every direction
An aimless kaleidoscope
Of patterns mirrored eternally

Life, effervescent in its squalor
And hubris, hurriedly spurns
This advance, clinging to
Its empty temples of deceit

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