Waiting for God
My life is not so much framed by its perception
as one with it -
We like to make before and afters
Cause and effect
But time is just another level in the same whole
Where nothing comes or goes
As a being who walks only down a straight line cannot fathom right or left
We proceed along this tightwalk ‘time’, unaware that the thread is just the knot of our false consciousness,
How could we move through infinity?
When it is just a nothing wrapped-up in itself
We find it hard to hear ourselves amidst the chatter of the city
But once in a while we stop and listen
Underneath the noise, something never born which cannot die
An eternal soul which is just the means by which existence holds itself
A slither of the whole which yet contains the whole
You know this
That love predicates forever and it makes no sense for anything to cease, to stop, to drop
Off the face of the eternal,
As if the world were just some spinning disk
spinning inside what?
What of this moment? This rite of passage?
What exactly am I passing through?
Has all existence been compressed into this event?
Or is life not always converging and expanding?
An emanation of a wave expanding into endless nothing
But will I not be different after this is done?
Having exposed these ramblings to the world
Or do I finally become what I was already
By trying to become my share of everything?
The ocean in a drop
What is this current moment but the glimpse of a thread on this suspended web
Life in close up
The camera zoomed in
The film on loop where the credits never come