Life rests upon a knife's edge. My breath is more fleeting and tenuous than the slimmest thread of a spider's web. Yet I regard myself as masterful. In truth, I am the one mastered. A fat fly struggling to cope with mortality on a sticky and infinite web... Mastered by the alluring illusion that I call the world. But help is on the way!
This world is a web,
And sitting in the middle of the web is Mercy,
The web is stretched from horizon to eternity,
Between two branches of the Lote Tree.
Most people seek dominion,
And they become entangled
In the cobweb of their
Need to dominate.
Others, ah, those bright fellows!
They submit to the Lord of Mercy,
And are given the license
To tip-toe between
Pre-Time to
Eternity.
If you see one of them,
Follow them and don’t
Let them out
Of your
And sitting in the middle of the web is Mercy,
The web is stretched from horizon to eternity,
Between two branches of the Lote Tree.
Most people seek dominion,
And they become entangled
In the cobweb of their
Need to dominate.
Others, ah, those bright fellows!
They submit to the Lord of Mercy,
And are given the license
To tip-toe between
Pre-Time to
Eternity.
If you see one of them,
Follow them and don’t
Let them out
Of your
Sight!
For they are
Worth more than gold,
Their eyes shimmer
With an ancient light,
Full of prose that shall
Never grow old.
(No.10 from current and untitled chapter)
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