Last Days Of The Mind

Can it be that the mind knows when its reign is coming to an end? Does it know that something behind its lids is stirring, wakening to a broader vision? Is it possible to take the mind to the shore and gently set it adrift on the endless sea of the heart?

Is love a shoreless ocean no longer bound by cords of conflict? Does it carry the mind gently into its cradle of caress? Will it offer the mind a cushion against the grains of sand it has worried into a great pearl at last?

Are others floating on the heart as it drifts into the cosmos, a starry soup of ecstasy? Do they wave quietly as they go past in star boats of surrender, twinkling, in love with eternity?

I only know where I am.  In contemplation of the silent journey yet to be begun. The thick slabs of misery are breaking up like icebergs in an ocean of great longing. I only know myself to be a fool.

I am no longer young, no longer longing for a person in a skin suit belonging to the orbiting of desire. Instead I ponder ecstasy of a different order. Such stillness that listening itself is a useless act. Such depth that no one can sound it. Silence invites me to the dance.


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