A beloved friend of mine Rupesh has left his body a few days ago. We grew up together in Poona India. Playing and working in the vrindavan kitchen of the Rajneesh ashram. And learning what it is to share, to love and server and resist and surrender to things and people we do not understand and yet know that is the way of it for it speaks to our soul.
So this famous poem comes to me to share with you today.
The moving finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy piety nor wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a line,
Nor all thy tears wash out a word of it.
—The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
Love sagar