I climbed the great mountain, my robe flapping free,
With a flask full of kombucha and divine herbal tea.
I sought out the truth, all ancient and wise—
But instead caught a chill on my spiritual thighs.

The guru said, “Sit. Align with the stars.
And whatever you do, unclench your *** jars.”
I blinked, I obeyed, I released with a sigh—
And the cosmos responded with a beam from the sky.

The clouds split open, the heavens did cheer,
As the light of all knowing shot straight from my rear.
The trees started weeping, a bird gave a shout—
“You’ve found the true portal! The trap door’s out!”

Angels appeared with clipboards and pens,
Taking notes on my cheeks for future zen trends.
A prophet flew by on a tricycle made of bread,
He looked down and said, “Dude. You’re way ahead.”

So here is my gospel, my holy decree:
The truth isn’t up—it’s what’s backing behind thee.
And when life gets too rigid, too stiff, too uptight—
Just moon the abyss and ascend into light.