I sometimes look for things to do
to fill my day and justify
my being here at all.
This is just the age-old task
of holding a “self” in place.
It is a futile and illusory quest.
This search for a solid self
is a useless waste of time.
Wouldn’t it be nice to stop the effort?
Not that I want to die, but I’d like to stop
trying to find, hold, seek, discover, and exist.
It would be nice to relax my grip a bit;
to dissolve rather than solidify.
Don’t be concerned, I am far from suicidal.
Quite the opposite, I want more from life,
and that involves a dissolution.
Only flowing things can be alive.
Only changing things exist.
Purpose is an ever-morphing thing,
and meaning can’t be grasped.
I’m going to let the boundaries dissolve
as if I’d feasted on a magic mushroom.
Why make solid that which has to flow?
Why scrutinize each moment?
These moments pass far to quickly for such futile work.
I’m going to let this moment be,
and go on to the next,
and ride the river all the way.
The ocean’s waiting.
Rest a bit.
Then back into the clouds to rain
and be the river once again,
and flow and flow,
and ever always flow.