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thought for the day

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journey<br><br><br><br>such a long, long way that

we have come<br>so many struggles met, darkness now

dispelled<br>since we were flames of burning light<br><br>we left

the arbour of eternity<br>by the power of that wing

that bears us still<br>the wing of desire<br>the great

wing that spans the reach of space<br>the grasp of

time<br>that the great wing should rise up from the canyons of

eternity<br>and bear us up upon the paths of multiplicity<br>is

no miracle, nor mystery<br><br>all motion must of

itself make rest<br>all stillness motion<br><br>we are

here now<br>regardless of our notions time will pass

us on<br>to other unknown realms<br>which from

prejudice we might decry<br>but wheresoever we may

be<br>whether we name them glory or dust<br>we choose our

turf<br><br>the wing of desire has stirred our hearts<br>in so

many ways<br>and we choose each chance we can<br>to

turn that thrust to peace<br><br>let us openly recall

that we are not<br>that great wing that drives us

forth<br>as we are not who that stranger thinks we are<br>nor

who our lover thinks we are<br>not even who we think

we are<br>for we cannot be bound in the bonds of

thought<br>as we are not found in the winds of desire<br>but

let us give it welcome<br>for it has brought us

here<br>and here we are all royalty<br>the world an oyster at

our feet<br>if we choose it so<br><br>let us embrace

desire and the realities that it spawns<br>with

generosity, with openness<br>with no unnecessary

definition<br>of who or what we think ourselves to be<br>nor of

who or what we think another<br>let us be generous to

both<br>by being unattached, to idea and to reality<br>let

us not take too seriously the transient

form<br>fleeting image of accumulated circumstance<br>we so

ernestly insist is who we are<br>let us learn to laugh at

ourselves<br>at those all too personal idiosyncrasies<br>we hurl

like gauntlets upon the world<br>knowing that who we

think we are is but an echo of passing karma<br>let us

also be gracious to others<br>by not assuming that

they are who we think they are<br>who they think they

are<br><br>let us remember that in the perfection of

undifferentiated light<br>all colours are contained<br>in the

formlessness of unity is the multiplicity of form<br>and that

there there is not even one<br>for there is no

other<br><br>knowing that<br>that we are light<br>refracted on the

quivering wing of desire<br>let us honour the other<br>as

it appears<br>knowing that it is only by that

hallucination's power<br>that we, also, appear to

exist<br><br>let us not condemn the rock on which we stand<br>the

root on which we feed<br>let us embrace desire<br>and

be generous to all flying in its feathers<br>both as

who, mistakenly, we take them to be<br>and what,

mistakenly, we think they are not<br><br>let us go then

quietly<br>until desire once more rests in peace<br>multiplicity

in unity<br>let us go laughing at our endless

masquerades<br>while conjuring more from the feathers where we

fly<br>laughing gently<br>laughing freely at our own self<br>for

there is no other

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