Seeing things clearly

 No hand to hold. Sitting here staring. A current of life. Swirling in the cosmos. Full of many colors. I find I am among each of them, they stand out like the features of my body. This here. That there. I see myself extended. I can see where I end, and where I begin and I can't find a difference between the two. As high as this mountain climbs and as clearly as I can see its peak, I see it stretching infinitely upwards. I am lost in this infinite expansion. Lost in this violet spaciousness. The angles of this world bring lines of force down upon my soul. It is through these lines of force, these suffocating cords that I see the infinite stretching before me. Cries of anguish echo into and intoxicating bliss that ends in anguish. What waves will do to the heart that rides among them. A wave, a heart. A heart, a wave. A sea of hearts, a pool, the depths of my ever churning mind. Cities arise. Lives flicker like fireflies. I ponder, I reflect, I become. Standing in the middle of each thing as it is born, as it is sustained, and as it diminishes and ceases to exist. Sitting and dreaming, twining, and unraveling. That which emits the chorus of sound behind all form. Creating song in the deep, on a restless organ. Spinning together the fabric of space and time in which we find ourselves. I can't find a reason to cling to anything. I am no drop of water, no river eddy, my place is not in the stream. I sit on the shore in the green grass. Water passes by me. It is all water, formations are temporary. Water flows downstream. What I could grasp, I could not keep. What I believe it would be, does not at all seem to be what it is. I am no drop of water, no river eddy, the water is flowing, all of it together, it is not apart, none of it is apart. When water flows downstream I do not believe in any drop of water, nor in any current. Water merely flows downstream. I am so wet that I am beyond being wet. My dreams are currents, eddies and drops of water. Spinning out of my mind, a spring gushing from a crack in the rock of the Earth. What control do I have over this water spilling forth? What care do I have do direct water spilling out of the Earth and forming channels as it does? What does it matter to me where rivers carve their way? Anywhere is as good as anywhere else. The Earth is open and unspoiled. Where a river runs does not affect the quality of the Earth. The ground is unbroken and free. Wherever water flows, it carves its way effortlessly through the land, and the land is there to be carved by it. All I see is open land and open sky. Water flowing evenly across the land untouched by anything else. When water flows in such a way, what else can I do? What else is there to do? Water flowing across the land. I sit on my perch on a green hill and watch the water spread out below and around me. Water, Earth, and stone, sitting on a hill this sight fills my human eyes. My body is an expression of this. My life and my thought. I am water, Earth, and stone. Electric water flowing out of a crack in stone that cuts its way through the Earth. I cut my way through this life, into this Earth. I cut my way into the Earth, I cut my way into myself. My eyes, reflections within placid slow moving river surfaces. Looking out at a sky I do not understand. How did this get apart from where I am. Water mingling with Earth? The sky I do not understand. It or what is in it. How did the sky become so empty of things? How did it come to stand there? This is truly a mystery. I cannot peer into such emptiness. Without water carving through Earth I cannot see. All I know is this. I am content nestling myself into the Earth as it is carved away by water. Perhaps when all the Earth is carved away, all is left is sky. A sky without a self, that is self. Looking at all of this, I wonder where I stand.