The heart slowly races with ease
yet the hands tremble calmly.
Blinking and staring into space
with no end, middle, or beginning
- of the stare not space.
The insignificant purpose-filled man
lays still; no motion to see within the empty moment.
Pondering on nothingness and its beauty
while breathing in nothingness called “air.”
He named it without significance or purpose.
Absently remaining in the present moment purposefully
placing trust in the continuance of existence without ever really existing.
Consciously looking without eyes to see
not knowing his eyes were blind and knowing he didn’t want sight.
Beauty blinds the bound in their own rebellion.
Terrified that life is really death and death is really
Life; Refusing to experience freedom because laying still feels
so good. The tingling numbness pushes death
while the legs remain motionless and restless without knowing
that rest exists not in stillness but in a Person.
Death always felt good as long as it was chosen
but Life chooses those who he wants.
Motion was given, purpose fulfilled, meaning explained
and none of it found in space
but in this Person and Life.
