A whimsical thought, adrift:
Perchance, the very source of my frustration, the elusive sensation of not attaining that coveted plateau of iman, lies in my fervent, yet scattered, pursuit. I yearn for all virtues, all at once, attempting to grasp the entirety of goodness in a single, breathless endeavor. This zealous rush, however, leaves me depleted, a barren field where no single seed of virtue takes root.
Might the true path be a gentler, more measured ascent? To be, perhaps, a shade more virtuous than the day prior, to extend a fraction more kindness, to offer a sliver more generosity. For even the most delicate ripple, born of the smallest intention, possesses the potential to swell, to burgeon into a mighty wave, capable of shifting the very tides of our being. Perhaps, this is indeed the way...
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