FOURTY YEARS
Like one in a fragile craft, negotiating the forceful raging waters of gushing mountainous rapids, negatives threatened to take me under:
Forty years
Like the living entombed in the bloody stench of war, overwhelming fear threatened the very core of my sanity
Forty years
Like the raging unceasing fire of Gehenna fueled by wanton desire, want and woe threatened to consume body, mind and spirit.
Forty years
Like one lost in a vast desert wilderness, virtue could only find its being as a mirage, even as the realm of reality remains ever aloft from the yet insane.
Forty years
At last, beaten by adversity as heated metal is transformed into light, found awareness of that larger duty and purpose:
Sweet embrace of a divine presence:
A serene and blissful peace, wrought only through unison with the cosmic will
Through self-surrender.
Forty years
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