Eternity’s Hourglass

without even the gold-painted husk that once I held as mine own,
realms of rapture become felt now as recalcitrant glimpses,
waves upon a distant shore lost to the horizon,
somewhere barely reached by time,
that false prophet
of mind.
what
emerged in its
retainer, after the slow merging
of sensory murals splayed with seductive colours
and expansive promises, was a return to conscious transparency,
as it was before I was born, transforming this life into its detachment.
there remains an equanimous stillness wherein the seeming continues to grow,
germane to freedom and to the musings of peace, but openly restful within,
without worry nor even care to stop and reconsider
the mind’s former stratagems of self-sabotage;
the wonder without has met the
knowing within.
and so,
consciousness,
the self-recognizing presence,
naturally works its way out of the planted shell
of inquiry and eventually cascades itself outwards to reform
the entirety of the self-experience, until there remains nought to pursue,
other than what, in this very moment, could best reflect the beauty of timelessness.

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