Once a traveller is asked by winds
It seems, you are wandering,
desiring a destination.
Where that place exists?
That traveler replied back,
I am moving on like you do.
That place is nowhere,
except hidden in the silence of the lovers' heart;
Sprouting in the silent rhythm of music;
Vibrating in the heart of every dancer.
I am wandering searching my shadows,
so that I can marry with my self.
I am longing for my utopias and ucronias;
Lost for holding barely the mask of self.
I am in search of Socratic fire,
Which can untie;
the shared chain of my identity.
Where exactly that fire is?
Winds replied;
Can you untie which is already free?
Liberation is to be liberated from itself.
Your bondage is an image,
Taking care of itself.
Just watch intuitively!
Images are reflected in each-other.
Who is holding whom?
Is there any empty mirror?
Traveler entered into a prayer of silence;
Watching his mind asking;
Who can think;
what can be thought and un-thought?
Now the silence is witnessing,
the infinite space of consciousness;
In attending to all or attending to none.
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