With the pincers of truth I have plucked
From the dark corners of my heart
The thorn of many judgments. I sit in my own splendor. Wealth or pleasure,
Duty or discrimination,
Duality or nonduality,
What are they to me? What is yesterday,
Tomorrow,
Or today? What is space,
Or eternity? I sit in my own radiance. What is the Self,
Or the not-Self? What is thinking,
Or not thinking? What is good or evil? I sit in my own splendor. I sit in my own radiance,
And I have no fear. Waking,
Dreaming,
Sleeping,
What are they to me? Or even ecstasy? What is far or near,
Outside or inside,
Gross or subtle? I sit in my own splendor. Dissolving the mind,
Or the highest meditation,
The world and all its works,
Life or death,
What are they to me? I sit in my own radiance. Why talk of wisdom,
The three ends of life,
Or oneness? Why talk of these! Now I live in my heart.
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