Applying effort,
we’re in discomfort,
feeling not by touch,
bliss we crave so much.
With head-heart apart,
we’re doomed from the start,
attempting to grasp,
what we cannot clasp.
Yet in this knowing,
we keep on flowing,
as we slowly shift;
ego cravings sift.
Once we so regress,
it’s a slow process
to enter silence,
sans thought violence.
Tranquil, mindful eye,
negates every sigh,
bursting the bubble,
that causes trouble.
Once in witness mode,
soul in...
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