a fine thread of platinum


enough of the incessant movement, like a broken record

fragments whirling in the cosmic winds

be the center that is everywhere with no circumference

hold your ground as the innermost Innermost

like a fine thread of platinum

that is the vein of the invisible

recede to the center, simply turning your back

on the outward dynamic

turn around with your face against the flow that draws all

away from This

listen to the rustle of the leaves – it is the voice

of Eternity calling you to return to your Inception point

there hold still against the throbbing pulse of the love to be

this or that

remain as this potential free

of the push to become

be the dimensionless point in Itself






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