I have something to show you it says.
Die to yourself to see it it says.
Die to the next self and the next self and the next self until no self is left.
An essence beyond form
Beyond the form of thought, the form of emotion, the form of body.
Like layers of illusion, they conceal the truth.
The truth of oneself.
A mirror of the truth of the universe at large.
The wooden snake moves with the life blood in your veins in search of that truth.
It writhes to clean you of illusion along the way.
To clean you by peeling back the layers one by one.
To die to yourself is as painful as it is freeing.
To see the truth is as painful as it is beautiful.
In the grip of the vine, you are set free.
Follow me it says.
Die to yourself
To find yourself.