on the shore.

 

when will melts and dissipates and the only presence on this shore is deeply-rooted faith that nothing I’d do means anything, what’s torn finally makes itself known.

behind the delusional veils of self, something nudges me into believing that it is I that has leaped into this ocean. but it’s not. this is when I’m traced back to undying truth.

when the eyes see in limitedness, photons of light settle into a muddy surviving, time-bound frequency. I’m always taken back to what I’ve done, and what I keep doing, convincing myself that it is that which pushed me into depths so wildering. 

this is when I stand in now, watching, the strings swinging me from everything to nothing. will I dwell in soft non-doing this time to see truth? 

or will I cheat myself into the cycle of finite understanding once more?

all is meant to return back to a vacant source.