This is the place of test and sorrow, of traps and suffering, of ego and desire. It is hooked and baited, filigreed with golden sting, sweetened with tears, the mishaps of good intention and salted with gall. It is a bitter plate you must eat, if you eat now. I would rather you suffer less, and stay from these and taste not ever, yet, I know you must and will.
You may glimpse the world to come, within yourself...for it is there, nor otherwhere. In peace and silence, you will see her by the springs of your refreshing. Take a moment out to give to that sacred place, your precious time, and speak to her there...where, as the wind, she will whisper for, true love has she. You may remain in such a place, forever by her side...if you can.
This is a place of teaching. These are teachers. They will bring you pain. They will show you ways to not go again and again, and again, until you know. It's what they do. Each one waits for you to make your move on them. Be advised. Do not presume. Be straight and receive straightness. Be devious and receive your stripe, for their whip is hard and grievous.
Until, at last, your lessons learned...they bow, to let you pass and never more turn back...a better man or woman than you were, to that which suffers no more harm nor gives, but empty lies. To die to this world and its wares, to be reborn to that, that only gives and loves...at last.
Written by Bruce James Clyde 2016, in Deming, New Mexico
Photo Credit: science-all.com, Lovers at Midnight
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