how could it come to pass that halfway
through my sixty-eighth orbit of the sun
would find me?
how, when I was without need
or hunger or even a shy dream that
might find me?
perhaps Love, like me, is a homeless vagrant;
like a mysterious night moth,
It seeks out the empty, glowing
and quietly moves in
Love’s the ultimate sly squatter
~ miriam louisa
amartingarcia on ‘Satisfaction’ derek on ‘Satisfaction’ Hariod Brawn on Conceptual vs. experiential amartingarcia on Inviation in satsang & the… -Consciousness, Exis… on Consciousness and reality