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Quote by Shree Shambav

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Journey of Soul - Karma

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Shree Shambav

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“Le aunce te nonc femante amna ce la corum morande corende (phonetically spelt) roughly translates to "The once his dark woman will become a new the Goddess." A black hooded cloaked figure spoke it to me around 1999-2000 when I was around 15-16 years old. It's also around the same time that I wrote several oddly cryptic poems while in a bit of a trance state. I'll share those as quotes here. I got the phrase translated in 2002 through my roommate's childhood best friend, Maggi.”

“Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout Would not take the garbage out! She'd scour the pots and scrape the pans, Candy the yams and spice the hams, And though her daddy would scream and shout, She simply would not take the garbage out. And so it piled up to the ceilings: Coffee grounds, potato peelings, Brown bananas, rotten peas, Chunks of sour cottage cheese. It filled the can, it covered the floor, It cracked the window and blocked the door With bacon rinds and chicken bones, Drippy ends of ice cream cones, Prune pits, peach pits, orange peel, Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal, Pizza crusts and withered greens, Soggy beans and tangerines, Crusts of black burned buttered toast, Gristly bits of beefy roasts. . . The garbage rolled on down the hall, It raised the roof, it broke the wall. . . Greasy napkins, cookie crumbs, Globs of gooey bubble gum, Cellophane from green baloney, Rubbery blubbery macaroni, Peanut butter, caked and dry, Curdled milk and crusts of pie, Moldy melons, dried-up mustard, Eggshells mixed with lemon custard, Cold french fried and rancid meat, Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat. At last the garbage reached so high That it finally touched the sky. And all the neighbors moved away, And none of her friends would come to play. And finally Sarah Cynthia Stout said, "OK, I'll take the garbage out!" But then, of course, it was too late. . . The garbage reached across the state, From New York to the Golden Gate. And there, in the garbage she did hate, Poor Sarah met an awful fate, That I cannot now relate Because the hour is much too late. But children, remember Sarah Stout And always take the garbage out!”

“I wish you to know that you are not ( in fact never will be) going backwards. You cannot undo your good or bad deeds & unlearn all that you took so long to learn. Darling listen – Once you squeeze toothpaste out, you cannot put it back into the tube, whoever you may be. You can’t go back in time to reverse what you have already said or done. Be careful of it! But the good news is that everything, good & bad, even your stupidity, mistakes & failures are a part of your progress (unless it was intentional or planned wrongdoing). If you don’t get the desired success immediately, you will learn & if necessary you will learn the same lesson again. Sweetheart, you are always a product of the lessons that you’ve learned. You are what you are, perhaps more wiser, stronger & full of life today because you went through something terrible & survived a bunch of rainstorms & kept walking with humbleness. I wish & hope that you are going to be more driven than ever & be telling a different story very soon. One of victory over everything, success, healing, health, abundance, love, happiness, peace & great joy. Enjoy your journey & think of the bigger picture. Keep your intentions pure & Keep doing your best every day!”

“I don't know how to say i love you in a way i can write.... So let me speak... I do not know when admiration turned into devotion, or when devotion became something that lives in my bloodstream, but here I am. Loving you feels like standing at the edge of something endless and deciding to jump without fear. It feels like laughter that refuses to stop, like breath that comes faster for no reason except your name passing through my mind. You have no idea what you have done to me”

“He said that some nights he heard the tom-tom beat of his passion, but he didn't know for sure whether it was really the beat of his passion or of his youth slipping through his fingers, maybe, he added, it's just the beat of poetry, the beat that comes to us all without exception at some mysterious hour, easily missed but absolutely free.”