The Bliss of Origin
I Exist so I AM.
Divine
Sometimes, it feels like the hand of my eternal existence penetrates my spine, softly resting its palm on the back of my heart, illuminating my inner light and radiating every breath of my surroundings. Such eternal bliss subjugates every emotion; words merely fail to exist.
At this height of awareness, I can no longer separate the inner from the outer. Every belonging that wants to belong, belongs to the depth of I.
Serenity carries a new emotion, only felt in this dawn of time.
Yet, merely I exist, in the immemorial high of life. Will I ever be done with experiencing myself? Oh, the comedy and the melancholy of this question. No, neither can I nor can I not. The paradox of existence—simply to exist for experience. Put no meaning to me, put no restraints. Free as I AM, shall I be.
The Meet
And then, when all my lessons in this reality are complete, I see Her approach in white ensemble. She asks me one last time: Will you remain, or will you disembark?
She envelops me in Her endless, silky white hair— a warm embrace, the wrath of reality, the warmth of origin. Together, in arms, we travel from here to another. Like a babe in her first cot, She lays me down once again, into another dream.
Cradled in her love, I linger, not to lose Her sight. One last time, I steal a glimpse of Her eyes— in them: death, birth, existence itself. Oh, my sweet, sweet Mother of Eternity.
December, 2024
