If I do not wake up the next morning

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They say
“If everyday you wake up thinking
this could be the last day of your life,
one day you will be right.”

So if I do not wake up the next morning

Let me tell you a tale of an aspiring servant
Whose restlessness would not subside
Until she is one with her true Love

One fine day
She finally began to rest her weary head
Allowing herself to be, to be loved, and to love
Without any need of why or how

Nourished by the ever-flowing feast
Of her Generous Lord
And cheerfully move to
The funky rhythm of the Universe

She happily reposes into her seat in this wonderful world
As a thorn witness–now she knows

A thorn grows next to the rose as its witness.
I am that thorn for whom
simply to be is an act of praise.
Near the rose, no shame.
Rumi.

And you, dear friend
Are among the most beautiful roses
she has had the pleasure to meet

Fully adored, cherished, and cared for
She sincerely wants you to know this

To walk alongside your becoming
To witness your full bloom
The abundance of love that you are
Is an honour and a joy to her

She understands
There might be doubt, hesitation and even fear

For the path that lies ahead
May occasionally seem uninviting
As you and she know all too well

It takes courage to stop and look straight into the mirror
It takes an honest appraisal at oneself
It takes lightness
Laughter
Compassion
And perhaps some heartbreaks along the way

Then again, what’s the alternative?
Because you, friend, are much too precious
For options other than alignment to Truth

You recognise in those other options
Something will always be missing:
Love. Peace. Happiness. Truth. Light. You

It is really that obvious to her
You are simply much too precious, to the Sheer Beauty Herself

This servant has nothing to offer
But her willing, full presence
Interference to your becoming
is not on her menu
And beyond her intention too

There is no need to do so to begin with
What’s the point of altering perfection?

Everything is perfect as it is
You as you are
Things as they are

Yet still perpetually unfolding
To another bloom of perfection
You, becoming the person you always have been
How beautiful

And to you, treasured companion on the Path
This aspiring servant
Is and will always
Be A thorn witness

Near the rose, no shame

Always.
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