Beneath the Changing Leaves
A poem
Today I am melting.
Melting into a beautiful web.
I’m decaying, like the leaves on the trees… changing colors and falling down, down, down.
But it's not my body dissolving. It’s a version of me — the dissolution of the old barriers that held me together.
There’s nothing else I could want in a future that extends infinitely outward and a past that doesn’t exist. There’s just me — here, now, dissolving. Becoming. Dying and living. Infinite and suppressed.
There’s a calm serenity here. A relaxing, easy, presence. It is who I am.
I — a presence that lingers in the air. I — a sensation of personal ownership that belongs to everyone and belongs to no one in particular. A sense of perfect harmony streaming in through the windows, a steadiness captured in the bricks.
I. Sturdy, and present, and infinite. I. Steady like the bricks. Eternal, immortal, and infinite.
What a peculiar thing it is, to be an I. Such a strange sensation. I.
I am.
I am what I am.
Zoom in.
Zoom out.
All one pattern.
I am THAT. I am all.
