PureInsight | December 1, 2003
[PureInsight.org]
Fellow travelers, I cannot see
Your innate beauty and purity.
Oft it is that quarrels strike;
let us look past the shells
And see what is truly bright.
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Above the trees, above the clouds,
above the barren wastelands
'tween hearts and yearned-for lands,
Clasp hands, form a chain, grab my hand
And we will move upwards again.
(The last climb to the peak is the most difficult; the path has never been walked before. Keeping our faith, with truth, goodness, and endurance, we are forged to solid gold out of iron ore.)
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The road is rocky and
strewn with traps.
Dark clouds, hidden dangers,
thunderclaps.
Strive forward, wearing cloaks of old,
Only when reaching the end
can one see
the hearts of gold.
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Lost, lost, all seems unknown.
Where lies true and false, where is the way home?
Finding the way, the golden wheel;
With faith in Master,
Know what is real.
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