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of anger having drunk it, filled with the nectar of compassion and seasoned with firm gravity also, comes out from the mouth of the craftsman
"Khammami, Khamantu me... I forgive all and ask forgiveness from all, may my spontaneous friendship remain with all forever! Why, when and with whom should I have enmity? In this whole world here no one is my enemy!" This seasoning with modesty, like the mica seasoned crore times, affects the eternal consciousness of the thorn crossing the cover of his body.
The up-rushing feeling of anger rising to great heights like fire is descending backwards, becoming very indifferent in the absence of 'fuel is getting pacified. Every moment the feeling of revenge, representing the storehouse of sin, is being vomitted,
Silent Soil :: 105
