When I look
But what is it?
What is me?
The mirror in my soul
The mirror in your soul
One is in here
One is out there
Yet whoever it is that I am
As soon as a stone is skipped along the surface
If all I ever watch
Is the reflection
*its messy – what is real what isn’t? We don’t even know ourselves. The only hope we have is to choose the realist thing we can, in the moment.
The past is over, filtered into our memories by how we thought about it at the time – by what we perceived – and perception itself is flimsy
The future has not yet been born but you can bet it will be built, little by little on how we experience and evolve through the moment
The moment is the most precious thing we have
Don’t live as a shadow of a reflection of inner and outer perception, filters, memories of how to behave or believe
This is dogma
As close and hard as you can
To live sharply at the edge
Or at least as much as possible
But mostly yourself
Life is a more convincing and immersive dream then we can ever fathom
You have to keep going deeper
Into the second hand as it ticks past
And see if time really is passing
Or is it just a shadow on the ground of what we think time is?
When all along
The real bird flies overhead