You can see I’ve become older and purer
like a bird that has stopped flying
yet, starts to fly with its eye
I’ve done my alchemy
The ever-burning bush has made me
my own Yggdrasil tree
I am beyond the dimensions
like forming an infinity
within the microcosm of vulnerability
like the bindu that sits in the forehead
that knows the moment before the first moment
God is initiation and momentum
Death and living, and living death
The prosperity of poverty
is in the recognition of its wholesomeness
Like the seed that can envision
its shrub, its flower and fruit
before it takes root
And such wisdom makes me believe
that defeat is only a parcel of destiny
like an object that has its own shelf-life
And I am not (any more) wary
of anyone’s treachery
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