You call yourself a seeker,
forever forward-reaching.
But, you are not seeking.
You are fleeing your fear.
There is stillness in the void
and you are nothing here.
We are nothing here.
Fall backward into blackness,
arms crossed like a Pharaoh,
embrace the echo of cave-waters,
splashing, as eyes count stars
through slits, ever-narrowing.
Perhaps it’s warm and shallow.
Imagine dissolution, little Sugar-cube.
Is it cold? Bundle yourself
in the shrouds of illusion.
Float on, delusional, dearest Inner-rube.
Find a fissure, snugly wedge yourself
against the great cleansing currents
that carry us all away, over the edge.
I’m sure you’ll find The Answer there,
tucked in holes or wrapped in vellum.
For me? There is Stillness to behold.
I long for the perfect balance
between too much nothingness
and too much soulful-mess.
Equilibrium.
(I saw a picture of a man
afloat, he would not sink.
Buoyant on the Dead Sea.)
That stillness is the reward.
Peaceful. Quiet. There is no misery.
But, until you realize you are hiding,
those aching fears roar, un-abiding,
and carry you, shackled, by worship,
out to starve on that lifeless sea.
We are finite and dying,
but toward the tranquility
of such a tearful stillness,
we, The Seekers of Meaning,
are fecklessly ‘ever-flying.
The Stillness. The Nothing.
It is an absolute…
and when measured against
the tiniest spark of life,
we see that our lives
are the greatest
brightness.
I am renewed in this light.
There is nothing to fear
in that beautiful darkness.
©️ CG Tenpenny, 2024.
I know a person that seems to be chasing truths that accommodate the dark things in their heart. I guess we all are. They try on a belief, like a new coat, only to find it too tight in the shoulders. So, they throw it on the refuse heap and try on another new one, never even considering they could just wash the filth off their original one and be warm and dry. None of us seem to like our old coats.