The purpose of it all

Were we not in the cage of space, mocked by incessant flow of time, how then would we imbibe God’s grace and weave a beauteous love rhyme? To the throb of bliss beats we sway, meditation sans volition, with no agenda on our shelf centred in heart by night and day, wherein each time we audition, the music plays all by itself. When our eye’s single, we are light, whilst on earth in drunken delight, we surrender to the bliss storm; touched thus, magically transform.