Guest guest Posted August 2, 2001 Report Share Posted August 2, 2001 The season grows cold upon the scattered leaves of withered days gone by. Our relative differences conspire to remind us, that we are nothing to behold. We struggle with the illusion of such negative bonds that are designed to capture us with lying eyes of usefulness. However, we strive to realize that the fields of freedom lie just beyond the door of destiny. We approach it ever so slowly, never wondering if it holds the mysteries to the universe and ultimately our own hearts. We stand upon the threshhold of remembering, hands planted into the woodwork of life. Fear paralyzing us from jumping into the abyss of freshness. Awareness engulfing our being, if we dare to dive into the expanse sea of oneness. Jump with me, I invite, as I take your trembling hand. There below is nothing, we are nothing, we become nothing. Wrapped in the folds of our warmth of reality, we rest peacefully in truth of ourselves set free. __Loving Embraces__ __Lynette __ Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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