Perfect brilliant stillness
How still is our stillness if thought forms arise,
each flicker having origins in ego,
a flaming ember, which never ever dies,
unless we’re empty and completely let go,
which if be the case, befriending the vast void,
we shine as light of Self, pure and unalloyed,
whereupon the universe bestows a verse,
conjured thus without any need to rehearse?
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