Idle musings
Gathering nuts like a squirrel,
we too are driven by instinct,
knowing not in truth who we are,
from truth of existence delinked.
Breaking our habit borne routine,
by shifting into silence staid,
in the vast void of no-thingness,
we enter God’s heavenly glade.
The seeker who sought is no more,
in blissful stillness vaporised,
yet our formless presence remains,
as the light of Self realised.
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