Emptiness Breathes

Emptiness within me breathes a sigh of relief. Room to stretch and move I hear you say. No chains about me, constricting and confined.

Into the space where wakes the embrace of life fabricated in the darkness here tread. I hear a call, a cry goes up and yet there stirs no whisper to be heard.

No sorrow nor knowing of grief, neither happiness is there that dwells not here. For all things past, no more are they, yet still unknown bid them come in the endless realm where nothing dwells.

But there resides the great All, capitulating eternal being when one turns aside from the thorny grasp of possession and the spiny merit of worldly renown. Relinquish the figment of personality for in it there is no truth. Make room for deeper being as One with All, that existence, invisible to all senses, that breathes the tactile nature into all things.

Strip away my layers. Down, deep down beyond bare bones until not a tremor of my ego remains. Expose me beyond the very fabric of myself, for self is not a thing. It is a belief given power, given life, given authority to the detriment of that true gem that glimmers behind the grey clouds of industrious human aspiration to achieve and impress. Impress who?

Nothing defines me, not really, Nothing other than what I choose to create for this life, this existence of my imagining. So, remind me of the empty places. Remind me of that nihilistic renouncing of my ego so that nothing remains accept what has always been, since before the ordering of time.  Remind me that from nothing is whence I came and to nothing is whence we return.

In this abstract reality we each have a choice to react and respond, to paint the vision that sits before us of life based upon how we choose to interact and utilise the tools of the imagination. Is my mind the only thing sure to exist? Where does it wander when not captured in the temple that is the body? I do not exist as one individual for is it true that One Mind is master of all, outside of which there is but only emptiness?

But meaningless is not the way, nor is it a truth. For in breathing the good free air is to seek attainment of enlightened realisation that love is key to all things. Compassion serves timeless patterns that meander from the Heart of Being, alive in one form or another. For even though we may play out our short lives, oft in selfish moves, nothing is finite in length.

Nothing.

Nothing is from whence we come and to nothing, that place of all things immortal, is to where we return. Where beauty is realised in the embrace of light touched by love.

Bring me back to that great cry, almighty Om that sings softly in the pattern of life, the earth, the rocks, the sea and the blood that flows through my body.

Edris   xXx

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