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  • Writer's pictureEddie Fogler


Death has taken your body for an early journey, but your consciousness still prepares for travel. I do not know what kind of man you were. A kind man. A gracious man. A modest man. There are no signs of your good or bad behaviors, and your hand tells no stories when I hold it. Senses are gone, but I hope you can feel the map to enlightenment from the patterns on my fingertips. A path towards liberation from the repetitive cycle. An ancient path of eight practices to stop the dharma wheel from spinning. I cannot tell what stops you have reached or how much further you have to grow. I pray you are at the end. But if you do not achieve enlightenment, I shall shake the hand of your rebirth and say “it is nice to see you again.”

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