light bends, I find myself
in the shadow of a great divide.
there's nothing here
where everything appears,
there is no divisive war.
there is no warrior.
gone gone gone beyond,
hard reveals itself as barely there,
a traffic jam of goo
enticed from the wave.
I shout to find the others.
no one in this hall of passing forms
but me, in myriad shapes,
windows and blossoms and prairie fire.
here but not here, aware but not,
this i, this collection, this me.
droplets roll back to the sea.
there is no sea.
just a point in space and time
where all great halls
roll back into one.
gate, gate, paragate om.