Every gardener knows that under the cloak of winter lies a miracle …a seed waiting to sprout, a bulb opening to the light, a bud straining to unfurl. And the anticipation nurtures our dream.
Behold the man who shields his family from all suffering. Has not his body become a willing vessel for affliction? Without good men to hold it up, the family house will fall when misfortune descends.
No mind, no form, I only exist; Now ceased all will and thought. The final end of the Nature’s dance; I am it whom I have sought. A realm of bliss bare, ultimate, beyond both knower and known. A rest immense I enjoy at last; I face the one alone. I have crossed the secret ways of life; I have become the Goal. The Truth immutable is revealed; I am the way, the God-Soul. My spirit aware of all the heights, I am mute in the core of the Sun. I barter nothing with time and deeds; my cosmic play is done.
