going home...
death is going home...
if
I did bury "me, I, mine"
before
if
I did bury "me, I, mine"
before
the humble thing called love..
mornings and smiles.. sky and our path.. how could life be so easy and amazingly beautiful..
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be a realistic..
remind myself many times... for not judging people. feel like i am sitting on my throne.. watching down on people.. suggesting things for them to choose.. believing that i am the rule creator.. the know-er even though there are uncountable books not yet read by me..paradigms not yet acknowledged... keep remind me judging make me a "god wanna be"..and i do burn down my wings... “Beyond our ideas of right-doing and wrong-doing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about. Ideas, language, even the phrase ‘each other’ doesn’t make sense any more.” ― Rumi
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