Is it that no one but I can take away my ability to journey inside to fellowship with my being or to draw succor from it in a time of need? Or just to visit it as a matter of regular practice?
Is it that my being is never alone or separated from its innate love and strength and wisdom? Is the mystery inside and outside of my every cell?
Is my body my golden horse which will melt in the fires of death? Am I no more than a special dream that will evaporate into nothingness when my miraculous steed perishes?