I have moved myself through the things that they speak of
The mind and refined it to the point of uselessness
The body; I have found its use as a space ship to traverse this
The spirit to the attention of the inner workings of nature to hear it
And the soul if I be so bold….that which to let go
They ask me “How can you live without a soul?”
And I say “Like so………..”
If I am alive and abide by these things what then am I; a human being?
As I watch it all crumbling
Realizing that I am doing the holding
I let go….like smoke from a fire that I did light once….and stoke
You may ask “Where then am I?”
I am….Not;
The mere reverberation of an echo from so long ago of a source forgotten
An assembly of words often heard in life’s temporal soliloquy
Rearranged for this player in the game
Of life and death
And yet a still whisper
Like an old worn out picture
In an attic’s baseboard photo album when uncovered they say “I faintly remember that one”
I am this one….of none
Some may think this dismal or bleak
But you see I no longer seek
The exposé of self
After then….not even freedom
If I could close my ears as I do my eyes
The silence would rise like the night
And as the prevalence of that whisper would arise
And pristine presence of absence sublime
It is there you would find me
If I were at all
Then greater than this the even lesser than call
Beyond the abysmal inevitable fall
My truest inclination is this
To rest in peace as Nothing at all
The quintessential kiss has always been Nothingness.

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