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Unnameable
A tiny gasp within the breath, but a drop
in the endless cosmic ocean. A whisper on the wind, here then gone, which
you know not from where it comes. Ego asserts delusion,
self-importance. Wisdom of inner silence speaks the contrary, the real truth.
Nothing within the something, to which it shall return, unnoticed really.
To ignite the spark again
that becomes the flickering flame.
For a moment burns bright or dim,
results nonetheless the same.
Going to that beyond all names;
psyche, mind, soul mean one and the same.
The mystery that transcends the repeated cycle of
human suffering, birth, and death. Master the illusion,
this waking dream known as samsara.
For we are mere breaths within the BREATH.
copyrights 2016 Michael J.Kucera
in the endless cosmic ocean. A whisper on the wind, here then gone, which
you know not from where it comes. Ego asserts delusion,
self-importance. Wisdom of inner silence speaks the contrary, the real truth.
Nothing within the something, to which it shall return, unnoticed really.
To ignite the spark again
that becomes the flickering flame.
For a moment burns bright or dim,
results nonetheless the same.
Going to that beyond all names;
psyche, mind, soul mean one and the same.
The mystery that transcends the repeated cycle of
human suffering, birth, and death. Master the illusion,
this waking dream known as samsara.
For we are mere breaths within the BREATH.
copyrights 2016 Michael J.Kucera
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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