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The Journey to the West

Though we journey to the West We pray to the East More or less that's the way Each day begins and ends It’s a tale everyone ...

Thursday, April 5, 2018

To Taste of the Fear I Have Already Ceased to Be

When I taste of the fear I have already
Ceased to be something solid or certain;
That self has yielded to not-self it seems;
Lying awake my brain far from teeming,
Circling around emptiness the way water
Dallies around a drain, drawn inexorably
Onward yet holding back too, the center
Indistinguishable from the periphery
Not even a shoreline that’s visible but
Only an oceanic sense of non-being;
Then and only then does a Golden Light
Appear, a dim beacon in the murk at first
But gathering in brightness it suffuses me
With a sense of calm and gives lie to all fear

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