In Ritual Evil Gets It's Ego Stroked Poem by Patti Masterman

In ritual, evil gets it's ego stroked;
Fires attended in brassy censors,
Choking on expensive foreign smoke;
Incense from a dead god's pagoda.
Evil lives because we do not mind it;
We find it necessary to find a balance:
A world half in fire, and half in ice;
Good and evil held in a chalice.

In evil, man gets his karma coded;
Fires which start in his spinning core.
All his idols and statues got melted
So he sits and stares at a tattered mandala:
Though meditation gave him indigestion,
And worry beads worried too much.
He's not the sort to mind temptation;
He sits to wait for emancipation.

In man, abstraction has reached it's limit;
He's the whole world, and it's in him.
Enlightenment comes in a single minute;
His mind like wispy smoke spiraling upwards,
For questions always are answer seeking,
And answers elusive as desert rain:
The freedom you seek was never in death,
But free and invisible, as each breath.