19 April 2008

April 13

While I was meditating the other night, fragments of phrases and words were floating through the white and I tried to build a house of poetry for them.

Thy golden form of Bliss, bare, beckons...

O Prince sublime of Peace...

Scion of supernal light...

King of the Infinite...

The Mother of Love...

In vain, I sought to order analogy, metaphor, simile and symbol to feed the hunger of my adoration, until I surrendered.

He is everything, He is all,
There is no form without
That he knows not within.

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