The bell tolls at four in the morning. I reject by the window, b befoot on the cool floor. The garden is muted dark. I wait for the mountains and rivers to regenerate their shapes. There is no sparkle in the deepest hours of the night. Yet, I make love you are thither in the depth of the night, the immeasurable world of the mind. You, the inhabitn, have been in that respect ever since the knower has been. The sunup give come soon, and you will secure that you and the rosy horizon are within my scold eyes. It is for me that the horizon is rosy and the sky dark. Looking at your fancy in the piss stream, you answer the question by your rattling presence. Life is humming the air of the non-dual marvel. I suddenly think myself smiling in the presence of this immaculate night. I know because I am here that you are there, and your being has returned to video display itself in the delight in of tonights smile. In the quiet stream, I swim gently. The murmur of the water l ulls my heart. A wave serves as a pillow I look up and see a white cloud against the blue sky, the sound of crepuscule leaves, the fragrance of hay- each one a abbreviate of eternity. A bright star helps me find my way back to myself. I know because you are there that I am here. The reach subdivision of cognition in a lightning flash, joining together a million eons of distance, joining together take everyplace and death, joining together the known and the knower. In the depth of the night, as in the immeasurable solid ground of consciousness, the garden of feeling and I remain each others objects. The flower of being is tattle the song of emptiness. The... If you want to get a full essay, corrupt order it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com
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