Skilled like a demon barber, Sage shaved my head,
Clearly sheared my sense of 'I' and 'mine',
Ego, slain by sharpened razor's edge lies dead,
I'm free to savour ecstasy, a heady wine.
Heaps of golden locks lie on his salon floor,
Sweeps aren't to be dissected or numbered.
Bald, I walk briskly from this barber's door,
Free from care and fear, unencumbered.
Having shorn my waving shining hair,
I wildly stamp a dance of riotous joy,
Prancing madly in the transcendental air,
Happy as a star struck adolescent boy.
Attend the barber Sage, dear lads and girls,
And loose your selfish selves, not only curls.
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