Die, & be forgotten…
This place is a dream. Only a sleeper considers it real.
Rumi
Soon enough every cell in us will cease to repeat the pattern, & we will die
& be forgotten.
So focus on each breath as our chests repeat the movement of our heartbeat;
in & out, up & down, until we’ve found
the place where presence elides into absence & from something to nothing, we return again to where all things begin…
The future is composed of consequence not yet made manifest & the past is the mess it left behind.
Diaphanous & thin, the boundary between mind & brain; something & nothing; life &
death.