for there is the emotional child,
being comforted by ever-flow of anguish.
held in the arms of the elder-wise priest,
advancing in the evolution of stillness.
ever prompted by the healing shadow,
over-cast by the tantric of herself.
there is emotion presenting as wistful tears.
there is mind-full-ness
in the weave of its still-ness.
there is the myst presented of healing's invite.
in all of this,
there is the whittle-down of each moment,
beyond its elements of harmonizing compositions.
its plight is sacred,
when its not going to or coming from.
each moment is its own blessed composition,
even in the atmosphere of relics that invisibly haunt.
eventually all tears will evaporate.
all chants will up lift their murmurs into resound.
and all the radiates from the tantric will embrace.
from the beyond then,
the child will be,
the birth of the moment.
the monk will be,
mindlessly realized.
and the tantric will have perfected
the oneness as embrace . . .
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