Mechanically my silent tongue is spinning its webb, its endless work within my head; and this very presence defines ME contains me, confines me, maintains ME. It is I, and I am sick to be free! Ye tI will not let go. I hold on to the webb, the thoughts I hear describe. These thoughts. All thoughts a lie! For Iknnow from times when I sense my Self.... in a flimpsee... when with thoughts spinning through I see that the thoughts aren't ME. I know my Self as the quietness in between. I know my Self. I am the in between. I let go of the webb And I am Free.
