If the earth one wants to see, On the earth one cannot be, One has to fly out to the sky, And the earth below descry. how then can the self one see, when from the self we can never be free, Verily a mirror is what we need, for the Soul, for the Psyche, for the Id. When such a handy mirror one finds, one sees yet remains blind, The mind is a cunning foe, when it traps it never lets go. The mind, verily, is a wild and queer beast, On strange and many things it hankers to feast, But its penchant to coil, is stranger ever more, Like a spring finely wound, pressure hidden in the core, latent but quiet with nary a snore. Yet a coiled spring, quiet, faces a fate certain, Unwind it must, unleash it must its burden, Does it unwind slow, or does it unwind faster, is a question, not easy, but for the crystal mirror. Many are the forces of nature, that do latent be, A volcano, a grazing rhino, the sting tail of a honey bee, All these we can discern, all these we can verily see, But there do be springs wound, shadowed in the boulder's lee, Can we ever discern them, can in the shadows we see? But knowledge of the beast's nature, and knowledge of the wound springs that be, Is worth a hardy quest, for what better than to be free, Tis a first step in the path, albeit one we cannot see.