Raised From Another Death

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One dies to the lesser self, and in this scary ride, opens the eyes in a tomb with the knowledge he or she is to walk out into the garden, and speak to Magdelene.
Within suffering is a nucleus of victory, and pleasure savored. A day is a night, and a morning, tis unity through opposites, knowing through differentiation.
How many of us are ready for a new one? Let not yesterday’s trophy swell unto disfiguration, rather after enjoyment of rest, become a mad dog, insane to take new ground, the yet undiscovered heart…we are one.
Then kindred will be the word.

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