This World Which Is Made Of Our Love For Emptiness

This World Which Is Made of Our Love for Emptiness

Praise to the emptiness that blanks out existence. Existence:

This place made from our love for that emptiness

Yet somehow comes emptiness,

this existence goes.

Praise to that happening, over and over!

For years I pulled my own existence out of emptiness.

Then one swoop, one swing of the arm,

that work is over.

Free of who I was, free of presence, free of dangerous fear, hope,

free of mountainous wanting.

The here-and-now mountain is a tiny piece of a piece of straw

blown off into emptiness.

These words I’m saying so much begin to lose meaning:

Existence, emptiness, mountain, straw:

Words and what they try to say swept

out the window, down the slant of the roof.

This World Which Is Made Of Our Love For Emptiness

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chaotichandle - SANTA.
SANTA.

Humans are weak pieces of shit.

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