Is a never-ending story
That’s its glory
It’s infinite
And its infiniteness
Is you
From your self
To your self
The Universe within
And each thing by itself
Life renders its taste
Because we’ve become numb
But we will want to again
After this rain of useless suffering
After this endless void of death
Each color will own its time
And the dialogue between life and men
Will come to life
Our selves
Time is space and space is time
And we do not live
Life lives
In us
A breath of life
There is nothing greater than suffering
When one can stand there and let it live itself out
Because there is too much suffering out there
That everyone is trying to avoid and we were made
To feed on suffering and till it until it gives life to life
Like beyond Earth: the moon and the Sun, the cosmic pulse
In suffering the reality of our lives
We understand our lives
The suffering our parents gave us tell us about our parent’s, parent’s, parent’s, parent’s suffering
And beyond our parent’s, parent’s, parent’s, parent’s, were our parent’s, parent’s, parent’s, parents
They who are beyond us
are within us
we are the key to our selves
In acting it out, it pours from its own realm into this one, like flowers on a tree and dies after, after the act, like flowers in spring
each act is its door
each connection between us is its home
it pours itself out in the myriadness of our lives
And lives
And lives
And lives
As we die
in its wonder
We are OURSELVES enough to face all suffering
If we can take it step by step and deal with it
The hunger
The loneliness
The abandonment
The excesses
The mistakes
The faults
The crimes
The whining
The commodities
The sexualities
The laissez faires
The carelessness
The absurdities
The injustices
The crosses
The losses
The abundances
The technologies
The joys
The superficialities
The decadence
The criminalities
The separations
The marriages
The suicides
The homicides
The televisions
The cults
The lawlessness
The happiness
The children
The parents
The friends
The houses
The streets
The Public Squares
The madmen
The women
The men
The children
We can take ourselves and our lives
And live
And your absence and
The color of your absence
And still be
By
My
Self
It opens the road to my self
When my presence pours itself out on you
It opens the road to our selves
I am you
Love between us is not an act
But a quality of our being
To seek you
Or feel you
I exist in you as you exist in me
For love lives itself out in us
Not as an activity
But as a reality
You do not allow love to exist
It is not I who dies in your life
It’s love what dries out
In yours
Because in me
you live
to eternity
How could I deny myself?
In my lawlessness
In my painfulness
In my lustfulness
In my wishfulness
I am born to my pain
In my pain I am born
To our selves
As water is one
And Earth
And light
As light and darkness
And in the darkness of our lives
We live the light of our deaths
Death is the light beyond
Where pain is love
Where love is painless
We let life live itself out
As it lives itself out
We are freed from our self
And wholeness unifies us
So that I die freely
So that I die in the desire
Of our separation
And resurrect in the oneness
Of our being
I see!
May I reach you in the exuberance of gratitude
With graceful suffering.
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