Is it death – or life –
That deals the crushing blow,
That strips us of comfort
And the ability to move on
Toward heaven,
To a future,
Through the dark,
To the dawn?
Is it life – or death –
That rocks us in its arms,
That swaddles us in love
And conquers fear with faith and hope
Of heaven,
Of a future,
Through the dark,
To the dawn?
... with only one breath between the two, i would say that true healing comes only with death. i forget who, but someone wise said, 'we are born broken; we live my mending.' i think perhaps it was c.s. lewis ...
This book chronicles an infinite allegoric odyssey of Absolute Awakening in which a learned man, a mute man, and a recluse woman are the principal players. The mute and the recluse are the learned one's Teachers and Guides on his journey of Enlighten
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