O wise weaver,
In the dawn’s waking glow,
High upon your bed of silk
Still you are,
In your apathetic benevolence,
For you just are —
Giving and taking simultaneously,
For destruction and creation are of the same mother
I know no greater love than thee; No greater peace, And no greater illusion, Solely the one true reality— I meditate on your nectar, For the...
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