Today I heard good news, old news.
Echoes of recent wanderers; scribes.
But today, the sweetness of it penetrated
And made a heart so often still, glad.
All that passes within and without
Passes before my hands, not of them.
If you try to catch emergent thoughts
And wrestle them into bright subjects
You form.
But if you merely acknowledge what flies or spins before you
Whether a breeze or maelstrom,
You will know your Self.
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