it’s so zen
when you decide not to pretend.
then,
every moment is real.
for real.
ever present, experiencing
the moments transition
seamlessly
but without ever moving
somehow
each moment merges into the next
and time stops forever
without ever
skipping a beat.
and why should I be any different?
infinitely empty and full at the same time
I can’t be a slave to my mind,
anymore.
I can do it without trying.
and discover that dying
is the same thing as living
after all
that familiar brick wall
suddenly isn’t very hard at all
because it’s made of me
not good nor bad,
both living and dying
everything and nothing
all at once
this cage of names is shattering
just like I’ve seen
in so many dreams
smoke and steam
make the sky seen.
they move like woman
spiraling alongside air and space
revealing the shapes
of her sacred place..