From the heart of conflicts
The one we perfectly know, out of cruel experience
The one we’ve stridden across until our skin wore away,
Could we jump off our ill-being
To the pure heart of Being ?
Could we then be amazed as we observe
What arises from our bowels, what is growing in our wombs
What has been stirring our thoughts, wringing us out ?
Could we see the wild slaps of winds flattening us against the ground ?
Could we kindle a joy that never wears off,
Could we dwell beyond the storm of shouts ?
Here, violent gales are blowing but a breeze,
Salted with the tears of those still unable to cry
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