Self-Realization and Other Awakenings

someone new came, and if they came with passion,
energy, he was transformed again.
Such happens to me. People come to me and when
they burn I see their truth. I feel their truth. One is
becoming a new Krishnamurti, another is becoming
Kali, another becomes Krishna, and there is room in
me for each for that moment.
Then I write, and when I write, I express their
truth as it unfolds and it appears my central thread is
lost. Their process and truth inspire me. Their
expressed truth will be of some help to someone,
somewhere.
But the truth is, I have no central thread. I have no
truth. I am there for them, not for me. I feel like I
take on the clothes of whomever I talk to at the
moment. Those I talk to most, those are the clothes I
wear at the time.
Of course in the center is the untouched, the origin
of the manifest world. All the rest is mind, including
all the writings that spill from these fingers. And a
few are always with me, inside me, sharing my
emptiness, sharing our mutual purpose in the world.
Above all are Robert and Nisargadatta smiling
downwards.