🎆Dream🎆

TIME AND THIS DREAM-WORLD

The past has flown away, The coming month and year do not exist; Ours only is the present's tiny point. Time is but a fancied dot ever moving on Which you have called a flowing river-stream. I am alone in a wide desert, Listening to the echo of strange noises.

THE PHENOMENAL WORLD

The world is an imaginary figure, A diffused shadow of the Infinite; One breath created the worlds of command And all living things. As they appear to come forth, so they appear to go. Though there is no real coming and going. For what is going but coming? All are one, both the visible and the invisible. God most high, the Eternal One, Creates and destroys both worlds. The varied forms you see are but phantoms of your fancy, And by revolving quickly in a circle
Appear as one.

THE REAL AND THE UNREAL

The imagination produces phenomenal objects
Which have no real existence, So this world has no substantial reality, But exists as a shadowy pageant or a play. All is pervaded by Absolute Being In its utter perfection. There are many numbers, but only One is counted.

THIS WORLD A MIRAGE

The house is left empty, save for the Truth, For in a moment the world has passed away;
Then you, rid of self, fly upwards And are united to the Beloved. Union is yours when this dream-world Fades and dies away.