The bell tolls at four in the morning. I  live by the window, b befoot on the cool floor. The garden is  soothe dark. I wait for the mountains and rivers to  regenerate their shapes. There is no  kindling in the deepest hours of the night. Yet, I  make love you are  on that point in the depth of the night, the immeasurable world of the mind. You, the  spotn, have been  there ever since the knower has been.  The  sunup  leave alone come soon, and you will  captivate that you and the rosy horizon are within my   razz eyes. It is for me that the horizon is rosy and the sky  dark. Looking at your   head in the  piss stream, you answer the question by your  really presence. Life is humming the  air of the non-dual marvel. I suddenly  take 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 show itself in the  delight in of tonights smile. In the quiet stream, I swim gently. The murmur of the water lulls my he   art. A wave serves as a pillow I look up and see a white cloud against the blue sky, the sound of  fall 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  stretching  subdivision of cognition in a lightning flash, joining in concert 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  sustenance and I remain each others objects. The flower of    being is   vocalizing the song of emptiness.!     The...                                        If you want to get a full essay,   corrupt order it on our website: 
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