Too close to know what is.
Further, the process becomes discernible
But inevitably irrelevant.
The option is not happy
We never tried to pretend.
Let my own lack of a voice be heard.
We don't. The reality is far tamer.
Through necessity or apathy?
Maybe I only exist in your head,
As real as anything else.
We privilege by our own position.
Belief in the self.
I cannot affirm you.
Only conviction of I.
Empty with such fullness.
Dreams are like seasickness
They are real as long as they last.
And things are just starting.
To say yes to one instant is to say yes to all existence.
No self, but that which we wish.
Outside forces are felt, sporadically.
Fleeting in acceptance.
Once or again to be.
Why is it not a story of progress,
But of exception?
The first step is acceptance of ignorance.