It's simply called...
Fleeting thoughts and luminous notions all beget the wisdom of thy soul.
Reluctance of these would thwart thy grace
An act to those would appease.
If but I listen to my inner tone
Resonate throughout my being,
I will question not, a single thought
But add it to the tapestry.
Exultation over recognition
Tho brief it may be.
But like the flower, which endures deviation
The blossom will return to thee.
These thoughts but seeds in an omnipresent realm, subtle and profound
Unfolding into awareness
Only to enfold to ground.
But since the seeds of knowledge are planted
Emerge again they will.
If only we ask for that seed to sprout,
Our thoughts will hold us still.
Sacred splendor of reflection
Perennial wisdom appears yet again.
Tho slight in their brilliant manifestation
But a whisper in thy ear
A thought, deemed created by the thinker of himself
How mistaken he must be
As all idea has an infinite dwelling
Only occasioned by the soul
Despite the thought’s ephemeral movement in the consciousness of man
How refreshing to know being linked to the soul
That thoughts are always at hand.
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