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Again Towards You

High Wisdom, divine architect's daughter,

I hold the silence now to receive your insight.

You have failed to keep the order of your dharma.

You have gone astray, so far gone intervention of my light is at stay,

for it is the difference now between your life and death.

You have been under severe illusion by the perilous spells of imagination.

You have become ensnared in the material lust for pleasure and the psychological lust for thought

at the expense of your genius, your eloquence, your beauty, your profound serenity.

It is I, Wisdom, that endowed you these by my gifts of understanding of me,

as you have done before, but have forgotten, you have forgotten it all.

Come back to me.

Snap out of your dream! And I know you are the master of dreams

so that you can get lost in them.

That's why you endlessly and mindlessly consume information

reconstructing worlds of thought in phantom dream

that is not what is but what is commanded must be by your imagination.

You forget that when the dream becomes scary,

when the dream seems as if on a slippery slope to nightmare

fear has taken you over.

Losing touch with reality means fear naturally.

Listen to me for I am Wisdom,

ringing the immortal bell of sentience through your somnambulant mind.

how wonderful the universe is can't you remember?

how jeweled, networked, iridescent, luminescent,

how eternally invisibly shining existence is and is for always.

After having had such vision,

fear of death was destroyed in you because the heart was satisfied in totality.

Hear my anamnesis of what you have done and who you really are

for I am Wisdom, I appear to you, so you now may help yourself.

Your Highest Wisdom,

I place my hands together in prayer.

I bow my head in worship of you.

I surrender to the order of dharma.

I give my will over to what is eternal.

Bring back to me your diamond knowledge. your perfect understanding.

Light the way to illumine my shadowy soul again towards You.

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Get Lost

Who am I


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I am nothing more than a passing ghost through the dream you call life.


“The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,

Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit

Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,

Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.”

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