XXXIII. Exfoliating Anarchism(Basking In Amidas Holy Fire)

To the barricades! Where I have only my shackles to lose and a world of utter freedom to gain from this very virtuous merit. In defence of all sentient beings, I visualize the front-lines stretching out across infinity, the picket-line carrying every dharma word, the people carrying every kind of face. What is anarchism but the charity spoken of by the Buddha? Can compassion rewrite a culture of giving then taking? I have no alms, just these two bliss-bestowing hands, waving a black flag. I march fruitlessly thinking of some greater liberation,exfoliating anarchism, basking in Amidas holy fire, how far flung I am from ever being burned! A glowing ember I have made myself out of two opposing fuses on a stick of dynamite. I am no longer suppressed, but manufactured. All samsara provides the working parts for constant revolution. What then is my struggle? What lies yet to be affirmed? All possibility. No more exceptions, no more encryptions on the cycle. Everyone oppressed by their class, the banker, the Buddhist and the worker


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