Before you lies the door. Before you stands the guardian.
Meet that unblinking gaze and ask for the opening of the gate.
In silence, the guardian complies.
Pass through, but do not watch the guardian as you move,
For His gaze looks ever forward and also back,
And to meet it again will start your journey anew.
In the darkness, a flame erupts; a tiny light to push the darkness back.
It grows, and now the flame is a torch, a beacon.
The Guide holds the torch, and a matching light shines in Her dark eyes.
Do not reach out your hand,
For She will not take it.
She desires you to make your own way.
You follow, and arrive in a field of darkest night
That not even the Guide can illuminate.
Can you feel the One Who Waits?
Speak His name and He will rise,
Unseen but all-consuming,
The Lord of the Dead.
The silence breaks when, in the fullness of time,
He asks you just one question:
How dare you stand where She stood?
Answer him in perfect love and perfect trust, and earn the right to make your own query.
Ask him one thing only, and better it be sincere,
He will give the counsel that your need requires.
He delights in your respect and reverence, so offer both freely.
By his Will shall you be restored to life and light.
The Guide will take your hand now;
Do not tremble, but reach out to Her
And return to the world above.
You have eaten the seeds of wealth.