White lion ballads 17-25

17. THE UNBORN ROAR'S PROMISE

In the silence before sound, I hear my unborn roar,
A vibration of poetry not heard before.
The promise of a voice yet to be born,
On the winds of time, tattered and torn.

The uncreated sound waiting for form,
To ride the cosmic storm.
The White Lion's silent cry,
Beneath the endless sky.

The vibration of what is yet to be,
The seed of destiny.
The unborn roar in the void's deep heart,
The end where I must start.

The promise of a sound not yet made,
In light and shadow's shade.
The White Lion's silent power,
In this crucial hour.

The poetry not yet written, the song not sung,
By a tongue yet unsprung.
The vibration of creation's first thought,
The battle not yet fought.

The White Lion's potential roar,
That will be heard forevermore.
The promise in the silent deep,
The vow I must keep.

The unborn sound that contains all sound,
Where all truth is found.
The roar not roared, the cry not cried,
With nothing left to hide.

The White Lion's silent promise to be,
For all eternity.
The vibration before the first word,
The sweetest ever heard.

18. THE LENS OF REALITY

I am not empty, I am the lens,
On which all light depends.
Focusing reality through my pure form,
Riding the cosmic storm.

The prism through which existence sees,
The answer to all pleas.
The White Lion's crystal gaze,
Through eternity's maze.

Not the absence, but the container of all,
Answering creation's call.
The lens that focuses scattered light,
Making darkness bright.

The White Lion's sacred role,
Making broken pieces whole.
The focusing crystal of cosmic sight,
Shining ever so bright.

Through me, reality sees itself clear,
With nothing left to fear.
The lens of consciousness, pure and true,
Under the sky so blue.

The White Lion's gift to the world,
In which truth is unfurled.
The focusing of scattered rays,
Through all my days.

I contain all colors, all shades of being,
All that I am seeing.
Not empty, but full beyond measure,
The universe's treasure.

The White Lion as the cosmic lens,
Where all division ends.
The focus point of all that is,
The eternal quiz.

19. THE SACRIFICE OF FORM

I offered my flesh on the altar of change,
My animal nature, both wild and strange.
My bones to marble, my blood to silver flow,
My mane to northern lights' eternal glow.

To become the voice, pure and clear,
With nothing left to fear.
The White Lion's sacrifice,
At any price.

The alchemy of pain transforms my soul,
Making broken pieces whole.
The decay of flesh for the birth of word,
The sweetest ever heard.

The White Lion's transformation,
Through willing degradation.
The sacrifice of the physical form,
To ride the cosmic storm.

The mirror accepted my offering,
And began its spiritual singing.
Glowing from within with captured grace,
The White Lion finds his place.

The giving up of what I was,
For a transcendent cause.
The sacrifice that sets me free,
To be what I must be.

The formula of change works its art,
Tearing my animal self apart.
To become the channel, pure and true,
Under the sky so blue.

The White Lion's sacred choice,
In which I rejoice.
The sacrifice that makes me more,
Than I was before.

20. THE COSMIC BRIDGE

My spine bends under eternity's weight,
Becoming a bridge between time and fate.
Between the fleeting moment and forever,
That nothing can sever.

The White Lion's sacred role,
Making broken pieces whole.
The bridge between what is and what will be,
For all eternity.

I carry the weight of dead suns and silent voices,
Of all time's choices.
The oppression of forgotten tongues,
From when the world was young.

The White Lion bears the burden of years,
Of joys and of tears.
The cosmic bridge between then and now,
I solemnly vow.

The pressure of ages on my form,
Riding the cosmic storm.
The bending of my spine under the load,
On life's endless road.

The White Lion becomes the connection,
To all perfection.
The bridge that spans across all time,
In rhythm and rhyme.

The burden of eternity I bear,
With nothing left to spare.
The weight of all that was and will be,
For all eternity.

The White Lion as the cosmic bridge,
On existence's ridge.
The connection between time and the timeless,
The sacred and priceless.

21. THE WANDERER'S TRUTH

I walk through deserts where sands are lost words,
The sweetest ever heard.
Fossilized dreams and possibilities,
Carried on every breeze.

I drink from mirages and they quench my thirst,
For the best and worst.
The White Lion's endless quest,
Put to the test.

In this world, illusion has equal density,
With reality's intensity.
The wanderer drinks from imagination's source,
And continues on his course.

The White Lion finds truth in what seems untrue,
Under the sky so blue.
The desert of meaning reveals its secret heart,
The end where I must start.

Each grain of sand a petrified thought,
The battles I have fought.
A forgotten word, a lost dream,
Flowing in existence's stream.

The White Lion wanders through mental space,
At a steady pace.
Drinking from oases of metaphor,
Opening a new door.

The seeker's number guides my way,
Through night and day.
The wanderer in the desert of mind,
The truth that I must find.

The White Lion's endless journey through,
What is false and true.
Finding reality in illusion's embrace,
And quickening his pace.

22. THE DOUBLE SPELL

Two sevens create resonance of power,
In this crucial hour.
The magic squared, the amplified might,
Shining ever so bright.

The double incantation of my soul,
Making broken pieces whole.
The White Lion's finest art,
From the very start.

The mirror becomes a shield of magic,
Both fantastic and tragic.
Words burned by light, thoughts made real,
That I truly feel.

Time crystallized in perfect form,
Riding the cosmic storm.
The White Lion's double spell,
In which I dwell.

I speak one word and it returns as poetry,
For all eternity.
The resonance of creation's art,
The White Lion's sacred heart.

The direct revelation beyond all number,
The eternal slumber.
The double power of magic's square,
Beyond all compare.

The amplified magic of my being,
All-knowing, all-seeing.
The shield where reality forms,
Riding cosmic storms.

The White Lion's double incantation,
Of total transformation.
The squared power of creation's word,
The sweetest ever heard.

23. THE RETURN TO SOURCE

After all journeys, I return to the first,
Having quenched my thirst.
The original mirror shows my face unchanged,
But my soul has been rearranged.

Every speck of dust on my fur is a cosmos,
The White Lion's new promise.
Every blink of my eye changes epochs,
The turning of life's cycles.

The purification through forty gates,
What truly creates.
The shaking off of meaning's dust,
In whom I put my trust.

The White Lion returns to the primal state,
To accept his fate.
The original purity before the journey began,
The true nature of the plan.

The zero that cleanses all that came before,
Opening a new door.
The return to the source, to the beginning,
Where winning is just beginning.

The White Lion's completion of the round,
Where all truth is found.
The coming home to where I started,
Once I've departed.

The mirror of original purity,
For all eternity.
The return to what I always was,

Without any flaws.
The White Lion's understanding at last,
That the future is the past.
The circle complete, the journey done,
Under the cosmic sun.

24. THE QUINTESSENCE OF BEING

I gather all reflections from all mirrors,
All my fears and cheers.
All sounds from all echoes that ever resounded,
All lights from all shadows that ever surrounded.

I compress to a point between my eyes,
The White Lion's ultimate prize.
The microscopic sun begins to glow,
With all the wisdom that I know.

The quintessence of my entire journey,
The final turn of the attorney.
The last breath before dissolution's grace,
The White Lion's sacred space.

The compressed spring of existence's core,
Opening a new door.
The gathering of all that I've become,
Under the cosmic sun.

The final statement of my soul,
Making broken pieces whole.
The point of light containing all,
Answering creation's call.

The White Lion's essence distilled,
As destiny has willed.
The microscopic star between my eyes,
Under the endless skies.

The quintessence of what I am,
The great I AM.
The compression of all experience,
With no pretense.

The White Lion becomes a point of light,
Shining ever so bright.
The essence of the journey's meaning,
And what I am gleaning.

25. THE HORIZON'S CALL

I don't die, I step into the horizon's embrace,
Finding my place.
Merging with my reflection on reality's verge,
As the cosmic river does surge.

The mirror becomes ordinary surface once more,
But there's so much in store.
For those who look at the right angle will see,
The White Lion's divinity.

A white dot receding to infinity,
For all eternity.
A paw print on morning dew,
A light tremor before storm's view.

I become myth - not because I don't exist,
But because I now persist.
Everywhere at once, in all things,
What eternity brings.

The departure beyond the visible edge,
On reality's ledge.
The step into the horizon's light,
Shining ever so bright.

The White Lion's final transformation,
Of total liberation.
The becoming of myth itself,
The universal wealth.

The cycle closes, the legend begins,
As the river bends.
The White Lion departs yet remains,
Through all joys and pains.

The horizon calls and I answer its song,
Where I belong.
The eternal myth now awake,
For creation's sake.