“This boundless happening”
Appears bound by words like
“This boundless happening”
Is life just happening?
Or are you doing it?
Breathing, hairs growing, blood cells flowing,
thinking, feeling, dreaming.
Wind, rain, stars, torture, pain, love
Anxiety. Frustration.
Sounds.
Just happening.
And the naming of them.
Just happening.
This “I aming"
Just happening.
This happening.
Calling it ‘life’ or ‘this’ or ‘ just happening’
Does not make it such a thing.
This is unknowable.
Unknowable is also unknowable.
There is no truth including the words There is no truth.
There is no hanger baby for that sparkly new coat of yours.
The anchor won’t ever reach the ocean floor to keep that yacht of yours safe..
And you won’t ever find your own attempt to find.
No word can capture this freedom.
And yet this is freedom as words.
Binding freedom into a word called freedom.
It’s this. Nothing is denied.
Any recognition of this is also free
And appears to appear. No one doing anything. No one.
You do not know how to be a you or not to be a you.
You do not know how to seek or find.
Just happening.
Till suddenly ….neither seeking or finding.
You are as reading the words… ‘You are as reading the words’.
Just appearing though baby. Gone.
I remember when we melted into the sound of each other’s voice.
Just voice. Sounding. Sound. No word even.
Your eyes caught mine and we sank into seeing.
The stories stopped. All of them. Stopped dead.
Caput. Zero. And our eternal breath filled everything.
Breathing.
“I LOVE YOU”.
Just those words.
No one hearing them or no one writing them.
They are not been written by anyone for anyone.
And you are not reading them.
Just reading them.
Still, I LOVE YOU.
WOW.
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