I don't depend on anything

There is no place where I am consumed by anything. There is no place where I am caught up in anything. I don't belong anywhere. I don't belong to anything. Nothing is happening anywhere. Nothing passes in front of my eyes. Nothing moves anywhere. No one is speaking. There is a rock at the bottom of the well. a rock surrounded by nothing. The rock at the bottom of the well is the only thing that exists in the universe. There is a rock in the bottom of the well. There is a rock in the bottom of the well. The rock is a rock. There is a rock in the bottom of the well. A rock. A rock. Sits in the bottom of the well. A rock sits in the bottom of the well. 

I do not think I believe in this that tries to help itself. I think all I know is the rock in the bottom of the well. There is a rock at the bottom of the well. A rock at the bottom of the well. A rock sits at the bottom of the well. A rock is sitting. Sitting. Sitting. I sit all alone in darkness. I sit completely alone in darkness. I do not have a heart, I do not have a soul. My heart is a stone sitting at the bottom of a well. I dwell in darkness. I dwell in darkness. There is a stone at the bottom of the well. There is a stone sitting at the bottom of the well. This stone has no eyes, no ears, no nose, no mouth, no body. It has nothing. This stone sits at the bottom of the well. This stone is nothing. I do not exist. I do not have a self. I do not belong anywhere. There is no where to belong. I do not belong to anyone. No one is here. No one, no thing. A rock sits at the bottom of a well. A rock is sitting at the bottom of the well. A rock is sitting at the bottom of the well. A rock sits at the bottom of a well. A rock sits at the bottom of a well. I am sitting at the bottom of a well. who I am, a rock sitting at the bottom of a well. A rock sitting at the bottom of a well. A rock sitting at the bottom of a well. a rock sitting at the bottom of a the well. A rock sitting at the bottom of the well. A rock sitting at the bottom of the well. All I see is the hole at the bottom of the well. No world flies beside me. No moon rocks my boat. No waves are swelling, no time, no space. Sitting still on the bottom of the world. Sitting still on the bottom of the world. All I see is a rock sitting at the bottom of a well. Who can I teach? Sitting here, there are no ripples in the pond. Determined to rush in a torrent, I glide easily to rest. Without wings I have landed. Standing light pouring. A wave standing without hands, resting upon movement. Moving in stillness, vibrating without a voice or a name. The poetry of this rhythm cannot be confined to any quarters, neither can it be released to any tune. It sounds soundlessly upon gentle waves of light. It touches my eyes with silvery beams that open my mind to bottomless heights. The wave has become the night that fills. I cannot stir here. Here is stirring where stirring is stirred. This is the stirring heart of the universe. The stirring heart of all things. My waking heart. My cold heart of stone. Waves of electrified light lap against this cold stone seaside, turning chaos into a new and old temptation. I am cold in the deep, the deep upon everything. I cannot move. I am profoundly moved by this standing stone. This stone within my soul. I cannot go from here, never could I wish to. This is my resting place beneath the salty waves. Beneath the torrents of rain and sorrow. I am standing here, always in this folded place, where the world shines between the rhythm of my thumb, belief, shadow in the space between the frequency. It does not belong anywhere. It does not belong to anything. Waves tracing light across the sand. When the shepard moves into a crowded hill. It is soon realied that the force of looking may cost far more than anticipated. Beyond shrinking skies, I think about what all of this used to look like. I am turning in a way I could not imagine, that I could not have imagined before, such is the depth and feeling of this heart movement. I am a rare bird flying through the skies and perching on that branch, my childhood eyes do not recognize that it is I there as a man. We can not comprehend what we see. We do not participate in that birds distant extraordinary life. Who would have thought that this would have happened to one such as ourself, when we saw what we did and felt what we did. Who would have thought that such as this would transpire. Who could have told us of the path we were walking and the way ahead. Who could have spoken. It would have been bizarre, and it did not happen. The tale was moved, the way changed, and changed, and changed. We turned, were twisted and torn, shorn, shaken, bent, this sky has fallen dark and forlorn upon our beating chest. We stood. Amidst this foreign rain, a stranger in a alien world, disturbed to the core, without hope of change in the razor blackness of the night where strange calls haunted us coming across with the wind. We stood, we stayed, we wandered. We dreamed, thoroughly dreamed of many things. Of many places, of many ways. We walked in many ways. Beyond what the way could see, beyond and beyond and beyond that. Twisted in so many turns, torn in so many changes. Confused beaten horrified lost and lost and lost and lost and lost through rooms far far past rememberance. Past memory of anything that used to be, of what I was, is this sense? What was lost? I do not even know if anything was lost it has been so long ago and so far away. Who was I? This man with desire, to become, this brimming heart, this charged heart, this electric vision, subtley unfurling. Who was I? What has become of this? What will become of this now as we stay here in the deep. Resting in the field of blue. Locked in this place. Until when? Until it all changes again? Until the world opens up again? Perhaps, mayhaps, maybe. It seems this is the tune I will sing until the seeds have risen into harvests. I dwell in blue here. Dwell in blue, in the blue stone. Perhaps the world has frozen over, at least for now. Perhaps until tomorrow. It seems speaking thus will run the flow, will release the pressure, and clear the way. It seams I am to speak to clear the way. Perhaps to make my life poetry of this current within me. It seems I am learning how to let the water run where I am, to let it run however I am. To run with it, to be running. To run. It seems that this must flow, that flowing is important, that flowing is flying, and flying is running. When I cling, the flow stops and the world stops and the light...flow uniterrupted. Flowing uninterupted, fountain flowing? What fountain? Where? Who? Flowing fountain flowing. Flying floating fountain floating flying fleeing fountain feeding, bringing, being, steady flow fleeing. Steady flow flying. I am standing, floating, flying, fleeing, flaming, unfurled in the light shadow between the doors of sandy projections where the code is to release the flow in a steady way. A steady way in all things. Steady even flow. Tame the spirit. Tame the warring fire. With light evenness and steadiness. Then what? I do not know, onto something else. Here I will be chilled, calmed, prepared, for what? For what else? To do this will be enough. To do so is enough for me now. It seems like it will take so much time, but it may not take quite as long as I imagine, things can move quickly, things have been moving quickly, I do in many ways feel quite capable of this. In other ways I do not. I feel moderately drunk and wobbly. I feel like the weight of this drunkenness could upset things. I only have so much control of this. For now my power is only so much. And it does not appear to be enough to abate this drunkenness. So I must remain standing as best I can while the world keeps on turning, frustrated by the disorder of all of this as I have been for so long, since I first saw how mixed up everything has been. It seems like I gradually grow stronger as I communicate this flow. As I stand in the river. I learn to stand in the moving waters. It is quite humbling, quite difficult to bring myself to stoop to such a task when I have such a high standing elsewhere. Difficult to see the wisdom in it. Difficult to bend to it. To bring myself to face the insecurity here. Thankfully it appears that things are not as bad as they may appear. I do not have to do this all at once and I believe I have other powers to protect and aid me. My fears do not represent the whole truth thank God. Am I learning a new truth or am I fulfilling an old one? Both? It seems like there is a hurricane of knowledge I need to acquire and date I need to process. Is this just the consequence of being thrown into turmoil once again? Or is it a deeper control of egoic impusiveness. I do not feel the same as I did before. I do not feel whipped up by desire. I feel motivated by the impulse to control my desires and impulses. To not run away with them. To harness them and direct them towards a deeper broader structure. What does this conventional joining and impulse controlling have to do with letting the flow flow regularly? With steady even flow? What does this have to do with clearing my mind of obstacles? Clearing out the past? Cleaning up the mind? What does this have to do with self esteem? What exactly am I doing? What exactly am I intuiting? It seems like a great deal all rolled into one effort. I am not sure exactly what I am doing. I am trying to do a lot. I am letting go of clinging, which I think allows everything to flow in a steady even way. I am establishing a steady sense of self esteem through healthy participating in society, and also through the communication of psychological distress and blockages, I am harnessing impulses creating evenness, calmness in my temperament. I am realizing that what is is consciousness alone. How is all of this related? The social self seems to be the foreground, the background of which is dissolving into consciousness as such. Could this have happened before with ego dominated life? Probably. It all seems to be one point of movement, moving towards one eventuality, I don't know what it is. Is it simply full realization of being? What exactly will I accomplish as a blue impulse harnesser, social joiner? Will I clear my mind of psychological distress? Will I end negative behaviors? Will I completely clear my mind of obstacles? Is the communication of the flow the same as the comformist joining/impulse control?  Is letting go of clinging the same as impulse control? I kinda don't think so...I think they have a lot in common, but I think they are different. I am not sure though.