Gentle birds fly through soft wind, flapping there wings as there gentle feathers bend.
They rest from there journey in there home, you see, an even gentler creature, an everlasting tree.
This is there life, they have naught a worry, nor regret, nor pain, only a simple story.
Bliss is what they have, a state many wish to achieve, however the truth is not one, many people wish to believe.
Bliss is unknown, ignorant and cold, taking away any purpose to be brave and bold.
Death is what I seek if i must retain a blissful existence, though instead I shall travel a path of pain without resistance.
In this world of suffering only pain may tear back the veil, revealing a path of truth, that may even lead through hell.
A path not for the weak for we do not seek our own tranquility, only goodness, justice, and eternal equality.