obscure birdcalls from the big pine next door disappear when you search for them like trying to thread the needle of emptiness
1 comment:
Anonymous
said...
How Sufi... "A man crouching on the ground, his head thrown back, his eyes shut as if he were in a dream, sang an ancient song in which the word for love alternated with the word for death. Then everything grew still, and became a part of the immense silence roundabout." - Isabelle Eberhardt
How Buddhist... "Relaxed, resting his head on his arm, he abandoned himself to the infinite sweetness of falling asleep alone on the ground, a stranger among simple rough men, in a nameless desert spot to which he would never return." - Isabelle Eberhardt
1 comment:
How Sufi...
"A man crouching on the ground, his head thrown back, his eyes shut as if he were in a dream, sang an ancient song in which the word for love alternated with the word for death. Then everything grew still, and became a part of the immense silence roundabout."
- Isabelle Eberhardt
How Buddhist...
"Relaxed, resting his head on his arm, he abandoned himself to the infinite sweetness of falling asleep alone on the ground, a stranger among simple rough men, in a nameless desert spot to which he would never return."
- Isabelle Eberhardt
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