and where I end.
Am I the sky,
the wind,
the ground upon which I stand?
When sadness and joy
stand beside each other
under a cloudy sky,
where is the luminous sun?
The reflective moon?
As always,
I seem to have more questions
than answers.
Yet when the cold air enters my skin
as I move through the mundane,
or the hot air forces sweat down my brow
as I write these very words,
I feel the unmistakable
merging of landscapes
that makes the pain
of the world bearable
for just
one
more
day.
Because I know,
the manufactured borderland
of internal and external
disappears into only
sensation
in the end;
when all that remains
is infinity.
In these transcendent moments,
I am no longer me,
And you are no longer you.
When creation is creator,
And creator is creation.
When we are all finally free.
-Me
-Me
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