27 February 2015

Four Hundred and Sixty-Three

463


No idol, no dogma, can compel anyone to be anything that does not sally forth from within.

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When there is no place to be but wherever you are, where can death have any entry?

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Who can read such thought as these whose ground is neither tilled nor fertile?

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Immerse in the quantum womb of that which is prior to consciousness.

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Good fortune is finding yourself in someone’s safekeeping.

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Consciousness is movement, awareness just is.

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The singularity in every sort of disguise.

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Common sense, such as it is.

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Yes, it is that simple.

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Aloneness is its own harbor.

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What is death but the end of vanity.

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What are the loins but quantum heir looms.

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Why do you feel any need to participate in it as you do?

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What need for compassion in this ever-churning god-eat-god universe?

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From the infinity prior to all beginnings to the to infinity beyond all endings, you are.