Crested lark, a rare fumitory

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I am the fragrance of the unexpected

I am the taste of birdsong

And the sound of flowers

I am always new.

Only in rare moments do you meet me

This freshness

Knowing yourself as a new creation

Only now

Entirely new.


You see the world with fresh eyes

Such a world

 Such love

A world to honour

Not one to use

Or carelessly abuse.




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    About this Entry

    This page contains a single entry by Alakananda Ma published on March 27, 2012 3:14 PM.

    Tumbling Like A Waterfall: An Article on Meditation was the previous entry in this blog.

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