Thought
I am but the ocean vast
That fills a pitcher in and out
So declare the knowing ones
That made a shift in who is I?
Am I not an aging pot
With scars and past I can recall?
Competing with the other shapes
Do I evolve or creator makes?
My form is fine a great success
But still I fill my emptiness
Thus go I, clay pitcher grand
Even owning my own land
But brittle now, cracks are worn
Wise words come like light at dawn
“Thou art that ocean infinite
This “I” of pitcher denied it”
Prayer
O Lord, when I feel empty and look to replace this emptiness, I forget that thou art fullness itself. Fill me with your blissful self and break the sense of separateness from Thee. That is full and this is full, nothing can be added or removed from Thee.
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