Write your own symphonies out of worn out instruments

The Wisdom of Now


To sin is to miss the mark

The target, the point of existence

The Centre to which we direct

Our entire Purpose of Life


Too soon or too late

Defects turn into virtues.

Who can understand our given Fate,

The twists and turns of haphazard random?


Let me just hang in the Wisdom of Now

Trusting the feeling, intuition of Being,

Daring to fly and venture within

Extending the ripples of seismic stirring

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