WASHING

Internal and external...
Eventually all become filled with filth...
It that prevents you...
It that holds you...
It that questions you...
It that doubts you...
It that needs you...
Filth...
All filth I tell you...
And although God has manifested as this filth...
He does so that you may see the purity...
Oftentimes we do not see stains clearly...
For it is not until purity is prominent...
It is not until purity is taken away...
It is not until purity is forsaken...
And upon the cloud blocking the sun...
When we no longer feel, comforted...
No longer warm...
This is when we seek the barracks...
This is when we seek the Architect...
Our abandoned Temple no longer having a door...
No longer having heat...
We crave to learn how to clean that place...
We crave to know that place...
Ridden with maggots from your own rotten flesh...
The Healer of Healers is sought...
The Builder of Builders is sought...
The Knowledge of all Knowledge is sought...
And upon awakening from amnesia...
You recognize your garden given to you pure...
Now ridden with filth...
But the river water never ran dry...
And taking refuge in the Absolute...
Body in hand...
The washing began...


doM