Monday 3 September 2012



The Great Sage, unfathomable, free from fear,
In Heart's fair field stands firm. His solitude
Fulfils the throbbing pulse of Earth's beatitude.
For those asleep, their time and space are dear,
But there's just One existence for the Seer.
No place remains in His placid plenitude
For shadows 'real' or 'unreal' to occlude,
No more seems the Sun to rise or set, yet's here.
How, feeling the blazing orb playing on a world,
Can He, whose natural state is Self empowered,
Perceiving a precious ring, see ought than gold?
As the blue lotus flowers is his life embowered.
Sage awake, remembers not his worldly dream,
His garb, the Self, is like a cloak without a seam.

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