The point of life is life. Or it isn't. The point is not attached to being. It is not attached to who you are. It is not attached to anything here. This is it. Whether it is or isn't, what's here is here. The point is not attached to being or non-being. Self or no self, anything at all. It simply is as it is, and what is isn't limited to being. It isn't limited to existence. We are not limited to existence, we are not limited to ourselves.
Highways transcend the space of our being
Universes expel themselves forever
Tired hands grope for truth
Endless rivers spit upon the sand
Seeking hoping wanting
Dying breathing waiting changing
A river of time upsets the ethereal flow
Whoever made marbles meet meandering streams lives in paradise
Kings, goats, farmers hens
Noble beasts down low sniffing in the fumes
Waiting for paradise
Drinking in death
Waiting for paradise
No comments:
Post a Comment