on meditation

this illusion: so fleeting, so impermanent;
nothing remains when the last breath is drawn-
emotions, false in their knowing, convince
us that there is no end to suffering,
there is no end to lack-
yet, little emotion, flies like the wind
across the valley of soul,
searching for life to feed into, and off of…
as questions arise and fall…

my soul wonders in ecstasy and agony;
and without the bane of either-
i dwell upon the snow driven plain
of this moment
listening to sounds of time roll past
whispering secrets of eternity

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