Take that thread and pull gently through the arisings, and behold.
All formulated matter unravel instead of bind.
Thoughts are not the way.
Reasoning is not as solid as it seems.
Let go of this confounded reliance on whispers from the generations.
Let the driving force prevail without any help from you.
Mourn this loss of control. This fantasy.
Notice the defenselessness of every appearance.
This space that you are allows it, welcomes it, bids it fairwell.
There is no suffering in this truth. Yet, pain may come.
But the ever-present abidingness holds the whole world.
This is salvation, if such was ever needed.
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