Clear the flotsam in the Kundalini River with a sea breeze
breath and downslope exhilaration.
Knots of popular conditioning are blown apart so softly love
to love you.
The swamp of human fear and sadness is consumed by universal
resting in the joy of as it is.
Becoming galaxies and superstring varieties of universes
buddha no mind house of mirrors.
Slanted memories of castle times, beautiful days, and green grass
tanglewood picnics never die but fade away as if they’re never born.
It's either fortune or truth. Red skies in the morning and
night.
John Wayne and Monument Valley. Toshiro Mifune in Rashomon.
Now imagine the apocalypse to be one grand enlightenment.
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