The fisherman of change has cast over us a net of cosmic delusion. We are swimming in confined waters, falsely confident in our seeming safety. Yet the net of death closes in upon us relentlessly. At every haul of the dragnet of delusion many are caught, and only a scattered few escape. Ah, but at long last I leaped out into deep‐sea spaces of silent communion. Thus, finally, did I escape the net of time.
O Measureless Mercy, save me, and all my brothers, from this fearful, all‐seizing, but unseen net of matter‐attachment.
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52. O King Of All Our Ambitions, Open the Doors of Noble Aspirations in the Mansion of Our Souls
