A Child Again.....

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As we both fell into the emptiness....

The other and I....

There was no one to say goodbye to....
Nor anyone left to say goodbye...

I wandered anchorless....stunned out of my wits....

Decapitated....the mind couldn't even process it....that there was no me, nor other and no love.....

In limbo for a few days at least....

Blown away....
Footless....

A wandering gypsy.....

With no place to call home....

The I didn't leave the dream....
Grasping at fists full of air....

I became the new empty....

The I....was the dream....

And lived quite blissfully like that for many years....
All the events of life faded into the background and somehow never impinged on the quiescent centre...

Yet slowly and surely....over more than a few years....
The swirling debris....
The fullness started to seep back in....
Into the emptiness of this dream....

There was painful resistance to it and denial of it....

No, no, no....

It isn't....

A plaintive refrain....

The centre was coloured again.....

All that I ran away from.....

And all that I had thought myself to be ....

Back with a vengeance....

It was excruciating.....

The good the bad and the ugly....

It was the only way the grasping of the emptiness....
Lost it's sway....

Wrenched away actually....

Just as the fullness had been....

And the rainbow bled out into the dream.....

It was all the dream....

Where the quiet ended and where the din began.....

I could no more tell....

And tears and laughter.....

And the quiescent centre and the swirling debris....

It was....

It is...

Even the isn't.....

As it had always been....

And were it not for the separation....

Unicity couldn't have been seen....

A droplet dancing in the rain....

A rainbow rain dance....

When emptiness and fullness embraced....

Even as love melted itself away....

And the wind whistled through the trees....

And a million blossoms bloomed.....

And the lines fell away.....

Aaaaahhhh......

A child again.....

Delighting at the heart of gold of a single flower.....

Crying at wilted petals.....

Beneath the bough that lay.....

Empty without and empty within....

Even as emptiness of fullness sings....

The lines that never were....

Between

This isn't it

And

This is it

The cracks peeping....
Like this....
Through the looking glass....lightly....

The spaces....
Within and without....

Holding all the tunes in it's broken shards....

Translucent.....

The emptiness without....

Was the emptiness within....

Yet without the bowl ....

There would have been no one to sing....

Touched with gold.....

Beautiful this broken heart....

As songs of this and that it sings....

Simultaneously.....

Everything.....
And
Nothing at all

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Picture : Mary Byrne