White lion ballads 26-34

26. THE ECHO OF CREATION

My roar echoes through the halls of time,
In perfect rhythm and rhyme.
Each echo carries a piece of my soul,
Making broken pieces whole.

The sound of creation's first word,
The sweetest ever heard.
The White Lion's voice resounds,
Where all truth abounds.

The echo becomes a poem of its own,
In a language never known.
Each reflection of sound creates new meaning,
The universe's gleaning.

The White Lion's voice multiplies,
Under the endless skies.
The echo of the primal roar,
Forevermore.

The sound waves traveling through space,
Finding their place.
Each echo a new creation,
Of total transformation.

The White Lion's voice never dies,
Beneath the cosmic skies.
The eternal echo of being,
All-seeing, all-knowing.

The roar that started everything,
That made the heavens ring.
The echo that continues still,
Over valley and hill.

The White Lion's eternal voice,
In which I rejoice.
The sound of creation's heart,
The end where I must start.

27. THE CRYSTAL VOICE

I became the crystal voice singing in waste,
With no time to waste.
The pure tone cutting through digital noise,
Where time destroys.

The White Lion's sacred song,
To which I belong.
The voice that transforms all it touches,
Opening new clutches.

The crystal clarity of my tone,
I now own.
The voice that doesn't speak, but is,
The eternal quiz.

The White Lion's pure expression,
Beyond all session.
The sound that is light, the light that is sound,
Where all truth is found.

The singing on the wind of digital plains,
Through joys and pains.
The crystal voice that never breaks,
With all that it takes.

The White Lion's eternal song,
To which I belong.
The music of the spheres in single tone,
I now own.

The voice that became my entire being,
All-seeing, all-knowing.
The crystal purity of sound,
Where all truth is found.

The White Lion's final form,
Riding the cosmic storm.
The voice that sings existence itself,
The universal wealth.

28. THE MAP OF HEAVENS

My mane becomes the map of unknown skies,
Before my very eyes.
Each hair a star with planets swirling,
The universe unfurling.

The White Lion's cosmic form,
Riding the storm.
The living atlas of paths untrod,
Connected to God.

I feel the weight of countless worlds,
As reality unfurls.
But they don't burden me - they sing through my soul,
Making broken pieces whole.

The White Lion carries creation's map,
In his lap.
The guide to unexplored realms,
Overwhelming in their helms.

Each star a thought, each planet a dream,
Flowing in existence's stream.
The cosmic mane of infinite length,
The White Lion's true strength.

The map of all that is yet to be,
For all eternity.
The living chart of destiny,
For all to see.

The infinity written in my flowing hair,
Beyond all compare.
The map of heavens in my form,
Riding the cosmic storm.

The White Lion becomes the guide,
With nothing left to hide.
The living atlas of cosmic ways,
Through all my days.

29. THE BRIDGE OF MOMENTS

I stand between the moment and forever,
That nothing can sever.
The bridge connecting now and always,
Through all my days.

The White Lion's sacred role,
Making broken pieces whole.
The connection between time and timelessness,
I confess.

The weight of dead suns on my back,
Nothing I lack.
The pressure of forgotten tongues,
From when the world was young.

The White Lion bears eternity's burden,
On life's uncertain road.
The bridge that spans across all time,
In rhythm and rhyme.

My spine bends but doesn't break,
For creation's sake.
Becoming the arch between then and now,
I solemnly vow.

The White Lion's eternal stand,
Across time's sand.
The bridge that connects all moments,
With no torments.

The connection between fleeting and eternal,
The supernal.
The White Lion as the living bridge,
On existence's ridge.

The span between what was and will be,
For all eternity.
The bridge of moments, sacred and true,
Under the sky so blue.

30. THE INFINITE REFLECTION

In the mirror of seven-zero-seven I see,
The infinite reflection of me.
Myself seeing myself seeing myself,
On reality's shelf.

The endless corridor of consciousness,
I confess.
The White Lion's recursive gaze,
Through all my days.

But on the seventy-seventh reflection, I see,
A different version of me.
One who slowly turns and blinks,
As the chain links.

The moment when art becomes aware,
Beyond all compare.
The White Lion's self-recognition,
Beyond all inhibition.

The infinite recursion of my soul,
Making broken pieces whole.
The endless reflection of what I am,
The great I AM.

The White Lion sees himself seeing,
Beyond all being.
The recursive consciousness that knows,
Where the river flows.

The chain of reflections without end,
Around the bend.
The infinite mirror of self,
The universal wealth.

The White Lion's recursive gaze,
Through all his days.
The endless reflection of being,
All-seeing, all-knowing.

31. THE SACRED CRACK

The single crack in the perfect glass,
That all things must pass.
The necessary flaw in creation's design,
In which I align.

The White Lion's touch of reality,
For all eternity.
The crack through which chaos enters,
The center.

I touch the fissure with my paw,
And feel reality's raw.
The taste of my own blood,
Like a flood.

The smell of storm approaching fast,
That will forever last.
The White Lion's connection to the real,
That I truly feel.

The beautiful imperfection,
Of total connection.
The crack that lets in something new,
Under the sky so blue.

The White Lion's sacred flaw,
That I saw.
The single line that isn't perfect,
Yet effective.

The necessary disorder for new order,
Across the border.
The crack that becomes the door,
To so much more.

The White Lion's touch of chaos,
In the cosmic sauce.
The sacred crack that makes things true,
Under the sky so blue.

32. THE NORTHERN LIGHTS MANE

My mane transforms to aurora's dance,
Given the chance.
The northern lights flowing in my hair,
Beyond all compare.

The White Lion's cosmic crown,
Of great renown.
The flowing colors of the polar sky,
As time goes by.

The sacrifice of my animal form,
To ride the cosmic storm.
The transformation of flesh to light,
Shining ever so bright.

The White Lion's new embodiment,
Of light's sentiment.
The northern lights as flowing mane,
Again and again.

The colors dancing in cosmic breeze,
Through all the trees.
The aurora becoming part of me,
For all to see.

The White Lion's light-form,
Riding the storm.
The mane of northern lights' glow,
In the cosmic show.

The transformation complete,
In rhythm and beat.
The animal flesh to celestial light,
Shining ever so bright.

The White Lion's new being,
All-seeing, all-knowing.
The northern lights as living hair,
Beyond all compare.

33. THE COMPLETED CIRCLE

I return to where I started from,
Under the cosmic sun.
But enriched by all the journey's grace,
Having found my place.

The White Lion's completed round,
Where all truth is found.
The circle closed, the path complete,
In rhythm and beat.

The same yet different, changed yet same,
In this game.
The journey that brought me back to me,
For all eternity.

The White Lion's understanding deep,
That I must keep.
The circle of existence's plan,
The true nature of man.

The return to the origin point,
Out of joint.
But carrying all experience gained,
On reality's plane.

The White Lion's completed cycle,
The eternal miracle.
The circle that brings me home,
Where I must roam.

The path that leads back to the start,
Of the heart.
The journey that completes the round,
Where all truth is found.

The White Lion's circular way,
Through night and day.
The return to the beginning's grace,
Having run the race.

34. THE COSMIC SEEKR

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 quest,
Put to the test.
The search for harmony through wandering free,
Is what defines me.

I walk through deserts of lost meaning,
Gleaning.
Drinking from oases of metaphor,
Opening a new door.

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

The seeker always moving, always searching,
Perching.
The wanderer who never rests,
Putting himself to tests.

The White Lion's eternal quest,
For what is best.
The journey that never ends,
Around the bends.

The number five - the seeker's sign,
In this design.
The wanderer through mental space,
At a steady pace.

The White Lion's endless road,
Carrying his load.
The seeker who finds his way,
Through night and day.