No fate but what we make

This life isn't just some whole rehersal
compassion's more than role reversal
this pristine being we are seeing
is the passion, of a soul universal
Stories told in bold existentialist
metaphors twist meaning in this scene, of
dream landscapes painted by the great being
The beauty of the soul's reflection in the depths of love
is all we need know of the perfection of the source above
No need to grasp at the infernos flame
no need to praise it by any name
The nature of existence is not what it seems
Returning to love is sought in endless dreams
We have fight against natures stream
dividing ourselves into seperate beings
Now the time has come just as it seems too late
for the entire collective consciousness to liberate
itself from endless war and bottomless hate
Returning to love is our only fate...