I met a man on the road to Damascus who told me he had seen God. His experience was so powerful that he pulled his cloak of Christianity tight around his quaking soul. As we walked we met a man headed towards Mecca that told a similar tale whose cloak was fashioned from muslin. They fell to quarreling so I, desiring peace, sat under a Bodhi tree to reflect and detach from the worries of the day. I was raised in a far land with m...

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