When love itself comes to kiss you, don't hold back! When the king goes hunting, the forest smiles. Now the king has become the place and all the players, prey, bystander, bow, arrow, hand and release. How does that feel? Last night's dream enters these open eyes. When we die and turn to dust, each particle will be the whole. You hear a mote whirl taking form? My music. Love, calm, patient. The Friend has waded down into existence, gotten stuck, and will not be seen again outside of this. We sometimes make spiderwebs of smoke and saliva, fragile thought - packets. Leave thinking to the one who gave intelligence . In silence there is eloquence. Stop weaving, and watch how the pattern improves.
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Tantra Mataji | confidence - freedom - passion |