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Out of space and time

When God is seemingly nowhere,
He is certainly deep within ourselves.
We search Him at that core of the core,
Out of space and time,
Where darkness and coldness cannot be
Delved into the past
We search ourselves in our wintry wretchedness.
Pure consciousness is God
In all things,
But only the human beings are conscious of
His presence,
Being with Him.
It's absolutely no way to explain why
This frozen unconsciousness of the clay
Can rise to an enlightened consciousness.
Sometimes we are sharp rocks,
Having the consciousness of a stone,
Which is so formless, inchoate and
Sometimes empty,
Waiting His flood in early spring
For washing our sinful being,
Waiting the light,
Which speeds without mass
In non-existing space and time
For lightening our inner soul of nature
And our existing sharp being,
That kind of light,
Which warms everything inside
Until we are awakened.


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