I




Before all experience,
Before all thought of identity,
Before all mirrors and photographs,
Before all vanity, gratification and delusion,
Before all vexation of desire and fear,
Before all suffering of existence,
Who are you . . . really?

* * * *
Move beyond concept, beyond known.
Return to the untainted awareness of the child,
The uncarved freedom of the empty tablet,
Prior to all said, done and imagined.

* * * *
You are the source,
The divine ocean,
The absolute supreme,
The eternal unity of isness.

* * * *
Discovering your true birthright
Requires the persistence
Of an aloof scientist,
Gradually scraping away
At the layers of conditioning
Until one day there is nothing left,
And what you really are is quite apparent.

* * * *
There is really no death,
Only the departure of the senses
And the dissolution of imagined identity.

* * * *
When in every moment
You see without a trace of doubt
That there is no master other than you,
That those many pedestaled images of great souls
Were projections of the intuitive longing
To awaken to your birthright,
Then you are free of artificial limits.
You have at last triumphed over illusion.
You have discovered the most indelible truth,
That you are, indeed, sovereign, eternally absolute.














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