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X (55)

"No-Thing" you love must be
And from "Thing" you must flee.
You must stand alone
with no man make your home.
From all striving cease,
From all beings find release.
Loose what you captive find
And what is free fast bind.
Bring comfort to the sick
For yourself nothing seek.
Drink from the spring of bitterness.
To light love's fire bring
Fuel of goodness.
So will your dwelling
Be wilderness.

Mccha, A. of Mazt.