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