Inner life is a tiny gear
in the machinery of the world.
Many perform in the factory,
to the wheels of commodity and exchange.
Yet in silence there are messages
meant only for the soul,
hieroglyphics that speak to the destiny
of the wanderer who is not lost.
On Cold Mountain there flows a stream
turbulent and vital over ancient stones.
Surrendering vanity you come upon poems
written on water and the long suffering earth.
Your legacy may be lost, your wealth dissolved,
but on those sharp edged slopes,
in that round roofed sanctuary,
lies the treasure of your forgotten Self.
Reading of “Treasure of the Forgotten” with music by Mikko Hilden
🙏
The truth was true in prehistory times as it is today
A Beautiful poem Don.
The truth shall speak without knowing time
Superb expressions and imagery that go deep within. Thank you Bro!
Thanks, Don. Interesting and musical.
Oooh, I really like this one Don! You have said it perfectly and beautifully. Thank you so much.
I was reminded of Jesus’ parable comparing the experience of a rich man entering heaven to that of a camel loaded with merchandise entering Jerusalem through the Gate of the Needle’s Eye. I recall Uranda teaching that to succeed, both had to unload what they were carrying, get on their knees, and crawl through. I suspect the same applies to the human race as a whole.
Don — Beautifully composed & spoken. Thanks for this one.
What a gift you are!
What is that treasure on the inside if all else is discarded?
That treasure, the one on the inside is only seen, felt understood with the eyes of the heart.
Many thanks for your words and desire to make magic with them.
He-Art,
Keith
Thanks Don.
That gear may be tiny, but in the ways of Gods justice it grinds exceedingly fine. Divine outcome assured!
stunning