Say it like it is
Form, a balloon, its boundary our skin,
whilst at our core resides, a bomb of bliss
and when ignition therein does begin,
rapture spikes, felt as Divine Mother’s kiss,
sending us down a bottomless abyss.
Our attention is by bliss beats hijacked,
deluded beliefs held by us are hacked,
that as we transcend bondage of space-time,
wisdom of ages is in is unpacked,
imbibed within, ringing true as a rhyme.
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