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Like flattened orbs of perfect orange,
They sit atop a platter,
With skirted stems beneath and hidden,
As smooth as globes of butter.
Of tempting size for hands that pocket,
They charm us all to sample,
Delight in flesh divinely flavored,
With tastes of heaven ample.
Persimmons there so very favored
Have non-astringent nature.
Their type is Fuyu, ever beauteous;
Great appetites they cater.
In various forms of fair consumption,
From freshly crisp to softened
Or leathery dried or semi-frozen,
These fruit have much enlivened.
So now we raise a toast in honor
And cheer the merry berry,
Persimmon wine on this occasion
Outshining any sherry.
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The music of the universe
Is played by hands unseen,
And rather than for ears to hear
Is felt by souls most keen.
Suspend the senses one by one;
Be confident in heart;
Then breathe as if to life inhale,
From naught to stay apart.
The quiet tells of peacefulness,
Melodious in its truth;
The stillness and sedated sight,
Of harmony to soothe.
To live in tune, to resonate,
Allow yourself to flow;
The music of the universe
Has meaning you will know.
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The spirit lifts in gratitude
With every step outside;
The heart expands in harmony,
With breaths now deep and wide.
The eyes alight on every sight,
With views reflecting will.
Olfactory senses come online,
And ears responsive thrill.
With each advance, the pulse of Earth
Reminds of greater life,
And gentle breezes rush to tease
With tastes of nature rife.
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An energy being etched in sentience,
I sail a sea of consciousness
Resolved to know of separation
Though foreign to my soulfulness.
Before and after split the present
Where previously was only now;
And here and there suggest a distance,
An edge of presence to avow.
Created thus a sense of other,
This self-affirming program runs,
The oneness hidden, all forgotten,
Displaced by limits—chosen ones.
What's “other” then may soon be taken
To leave bereft, with sense of loss;
And thus is born the fear that rules us,
With thoughts of lack to reinforce.
A sketch arises with experience,
Identified mistakenly
As being self by act and senses,
Illusion clothed in density.
But briefly comes miraculous knowing
That supersedes all time and space;
Awareness like eternal substance
At frequency of perfect grace.