The do-nothing practice
Instinctively following scent of delight,
in as that pulsation that does not abate,
in staid stillness, soul attained zenith like height,
teleported by love straight to heaven’s gate,
suffused in bliss mists thus by day and by night,
invoked by yearnings of our childlike heart chaste.
As we can see there is nothing to be done,
save recognising that God and soul are one.
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