The Gita's song, a gentle guide,
No single ending does it confide.
No final fire, a judgment dread,
But onward paths instead.

Samsara's wheel, it turns and turns,
Through lives reborn, the spirit learns.
Not one last day, a world undone,
But life continuing, 'til victory's won.

Beyond the breath, beyond the form,
The soul endures, weathering every storm.
A cycle vast, of rise and fall,
Responding to cosmic call

Creation blooms, then fades away,
Then born anew, in endless play.
Our destiny, not one of fear,
But liberation, drawing near.

Moksha's freedom, from the chain,
Devotion's fire, washes clean the stain.
By knowing Self, and Self alone,
The cycle breaks, the spirit's flown.

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