A GREAT ROCK IN A WEARY LAND

Years I wandered in the weary land—The paths of sense, destitute of Soul—searching for myself.Seeking body's wholeness in matter,Mind's completeness in questing intellect.

Hoping to soar on wings of material pleasureI fell, broken, down again to the restless land.Longing for the cool, the calm of health, happiness, fulfillment(Though certain then it could not be found,That he only fools himself who thinks he finds himself).

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Refusing Identity to Disease
September 18, 1976
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