Fullness in emptiness
To evade the fangs of fate,
if we choose to meditate,
the doer as yet present,
we imbibe not love’s bliss scent.
Our feeble form we hold dear,
becoming the cause of fear,
which in turn is fed by thought,
a vortex in which soul’s caught.
As a witness to ourself,
watching life flow by itself,
we stand at the river’s bank,
heart enlivened, our mind blank.
Our emptiness is then filled
with bliss mists, by grace instilled,
if we be childlike and pure,
mood playful and heart demure.
Thoughts at rest, poised in repose,
as we so metamorphose,
in timeless time ego falls,
blown like a leaf in bliss squalls.
Ego dies, we yet remain,
as light of Self, free from stain,
in a realm beyond space-time,
with no mountains left to climb.
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