This road, so cool, so long, so wide, as if Life,

This road
Of the morn
Like a soft light born
Transmuting a life
To lemniscate...
Lying eight
For the morn is transcendence...
With Silence married
The road becoming longer...wider...better
As if suitably
A Deity
A Glory
As if Bigger one
The Life...

What else can one do?
Other than being drenched in wet and dew
Of Holy sort
A birth recurrent
In this life so so short...

me just glides
Like Her
The River
So flowing Eternal
Like music heavenly,
Like Peace everpresent free, untying,
Like serene flowing meandering happy by Her own...

This road
Is such...
A flight
To the sunrise
Behind temporary
Beyond rotations
A perennial motion ,
The brighest,
The lightest,
The purest,

As if
Lying eight
An Infinite...


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