Even the emptiness fell out

This devastating realization that there are no things, no self, no other, no love...  is ravishingly breathtakingly beautiful, and heartbreakingly bittersweet.  The unstoppable symphony, the passion play, continues much as it did before, yet is never again believed.  Painted with sky in sky this all consuming brilliance is never not noticed. 

Still life dances and sings and does not move nor speak.  It flows and swings and dreams and falls in love.  There is a wondrous heart ache knowing that all thingness is illusion, that there is no one to love and no you to love, that all you have ever loved and will love are as real as tomorrow... 

That this splendid uncatchable river of song has no one or thing in it or outside of it to hold onto even one imaginary piece of sky. Such a sublime melancholy knowing you are ultimately alone.... that this imaginary dance of love, lover and beloved is made up of empty resplendent costumes, of sideless mirrors, of a vacuum of dreams where there is light and color, and music, but only in your eyes.  

Still there is a magnificence of feeling deeply as there are no boundaries in this nakedness.  No signs or notes to follow, no place to land, no dance floor to slide along to dance upon, to lie upon when you die.  Joy and sorrow and love and wonder have merged and become the backbeat of your existence.  There is a wondrous heartache for all that seems to arise, yet never did and never will, for that sad lonely girl I never knew yet still see her spinning on the dance floor looking for the big wow.  

Time shot an arrow into its heart and it was you.  

And the edgeless-ness pulls you in.

And you are lost forever. 

And it is sublime magic. 

You look around and lose yourself in the beauty, and it is completely beyond anything you ever imagined. 

And all description slips into nothingness, you are beyond any need to capture.

It is ultimate spaciousness 

supreme... vastness...awe...

I blink my eyes and the miracle is still here...

My very breath blows me away 

All ordinariness is gone 

There is nothing that is not spectacular.

There are no things…

Night lights to infinity, streetlights on the run. Daring dashing delightful, demanding you to play along.  Every step is unfinished, every song is undone, every story collapses under the weight of your own love. You call out with longing, and you call out with joy, and you call out with tears, and you call out and you call out and you call out without fear…

and there is no answer other than your very own heart song singing drifting desert sand dunes blowing silently along.

you are your own perfect lover 

held from the inside out in your own embrace

your own tenderness

your inside out heart

I wandered through a garden of sunflowers swirling in goldfinches, and ponds of sparkling song, looking for the other side of love. 

The kiss of a beggar hungering for her own lips, drinking silent sorrow. It was there in the softness of yellow, it was there in the swooping of wings.  It was there as I gazed at my reflection on the muddy banks where cottonwoods thrust their thirsty dragon feet into the wetness and stretched their arms and feathered hands into sunlight. It was never lost, this bursting heart, it only seemed to fade as I learned the names of color. 

Looking for winged moon glow, soaring as this sparkling river of memory, as infinite facets of yesterday. 

Doves hover by the feeder, one crashes into my window and leaves her feathered glance on the glass. She flies away into the garden and her magic of flight alights on my lips, for it is this kiss I have always been, the desire to dance, this song of life, as it sings me.

People ask me if I see as they do?
Do I see the way I used to see?
I look around and although I cannot go back, I can say, "well my eyes ears all my senses seem to be functioning the way they did before the shift, but the feeling tone is completely changed, as there is never the feeling of any separate things or separate moments. There's never the feeling that someone is doing life or that life is happening to a someone.

The thought stream has changed quite a lot as well.  There's no more constant self judgment and self correction, as I no longer see imaginary characters, including myself, as the instigators or being responsible or indeed separate from thought feeling sensation or action.
It feels like a wondrous seamless timeless flow. It was always that way, it was just never noticed.
As it is always this way there is nothing that can be done to make it anew.

It's a constant streaming insight of the utter perfection of anything that seems to appear. There is no more hope or fear or need of other, better, more, or next.
It is the end of all belief in belief.  It is the end of all belief in meaning or meaninglessness, of belief in truth or false, purpose or non purpose, freedom or non-freedom, or anyone to be free or bound.

It is the complete end of the belief that there is something to attain or someone to attain it.
It is life full on unabashedly naked.  Feeling everything deeply yet somehow impersonally, like being in a movie, a passion play that writes and erases itself, and watching it at the same time.
The utter indescribable beauty of life doing itself.

Cold spring rain 

Drowns the morning 

Ache of sunrise 

Floods the dark 

Where is the sunset 

And the night that swallowed it 

Where are the people 

In last night’s dream? 

There is no here nor there to look 

For nothing 

For everything 

No now nor then nor next 

When it will be found 

There are no lines around a moment 

Nor lassos around a piece of sky 

Nor a noose around your heart 

The whirls and swirls in the kitchen tiles look like wings 

Like turvey topsy love in a Chagall painting 

Sun and light warm the day and sparkle on the waving long summer grasses in my night time dream when my eyes are closed.

Just like this my world and I am painted.  

Color and light and that crest of the hill 

And the valley where I wandered 

Painted day dreams, no more or less meaningful than the night spectacle

Silent footfalls grieved the loss of tomorrow 

As I was poured into this sublime line-less being 

Transparent flowing brilliant liquidity 

Sublime emptiness was revealed 

When the vacuum of infinity 

Collided with the dream of me and time 

We are the paintbrush skimming echoes of reflections of liquidity in endless waters... Colors shimmer into a beauty that only we can see. 

We can never see our own beauty.  That is unutterably sad and beautiful how we need each other to catch a glimpse of ourselves.  

Life becomes a flowing liquid love scape, a sensual cascade of infinite jewelry flowing in you through you as you.

He was the ache of the evening 

The song of the sidewalks 

The dark encroaching 

And the pool of light

He was the Nighthawk swooning and the sirens blazing 

The hush of the evening and the hush before dawn 

He was the song of the dancers in the empty bar hall 

The crickets love song and the chorus of the sprinklers 

Empty footsteps in the night

A gossamer light gown shimmering reflections 

Intimate jewelry sing of day pouring into night

Mountain stream 

Does not shimmer or sing 

Without a listener 

River needs its banks to flow

Love requires imaginary twoness 

A dance of one in love with itself

This desire paints my echo with sky in sky...
This longing to sing what has no words or melody yet contains all words and all melodies...
tears
So beautiful these reflections of love’s echo

Ancient arabesque of time 

Extending infinitely without direction 

Swirls around my footsteps 

Moves through my shadow 

Falls through my fingers 

As if it never existed 

Where was I going? 

From where did I come? 

Where is yesterday’s shadow 

As I wander here today? 

Time bleeds through the cracks on the sidewalk 

Creeps through the windows

Puddles on the kitchen floor 

Footprints of blood 

Going nowhere 

Never marked a path 

Nor caught a piece of today 

If I am loves memories 

What is my shadow?

If there is no next 

Where will it go? 

Time dances with itself 

I could never find it

It was simply a magician’s tale 

As was I 

A beautiful flowing story 

In love with love 

the incredible journey no one took
no one arrived
nothing was left
even the emptiness
fell out