The real purpose of life will
strike deep into the everlasting.
Like the mountain stream
that runs with in its swiftness, the mind can race as well towards that
freedom.
No more in the wilderness of utter confusion, while dancing in the shadows in search of the precious cause.
Life cannot die and it is the pilgrimage with its repeating, ceaseless
chant.
Caught, in the agony of time
and the tears, that speaks of forgiveness.
The self of which you are,
is the whole dances to the song of eternity.
Deluded by the vain pursuits of thought is being fused into the incorruptible.
Life has no religion
or adoration in deep sanctuaries.
Life has no abode, or the aching sorrow of ultimate decay, or the corruption of pursuing love.
It has no void of
loneliness in the shadow of time. It is the love that is the hidden source of
things.
Love is its own divinity and
it takes courage to wander in the confusion of love's own pursuits in
fulfilling that life.
Loving reason is the
treasure of the mind, for it is the song of the heart that speaks its melody.
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