Everything visible has an invisible archetype. Forms wear down and die. No matter. The original and the origin do not.
Every fragile beauty, every perfect forgotten sentence, you grieve their going away, but that is not how it is. Where they come from never goes dry. It is an always flowing spring.
Imagine soul as a fountain, a source, and these visible forms as rivers that build
from an aquifer that is an infinite water.
The moment you come into being here
a ladder, a means of escape, is set up.
First, you are mineral, then plant, then animal. This much is obvious, surely. You go on
to be a human developing reason and subtle intuitions.
Look at your body, what an intricate beauty
it has grown to be in this dustpit.
And you have yet more traveling to do, the move into spirit, where eventually you will be done with this earthplace. There is an ocean where your drop
becomes a hundred Indian Oceans.
Where Son becomes One. Be sure of two things. The body grows old, and your soul stays fresh and young.
Adam A. Azim 