The Whistling Wind...These Dancing Leaves...

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It still breaks my heart as I feel the other's pain.....

An uncontrived compassion arises....
And a love so sublime....
This love....
The intuited unicity....

The stories....

Not yours...nor mine....

The separation.....
But a dance.....
A flutter by song.....
On the wings of a breeze....

Readiness was never the name of the game....

Waiting for Godot.....

The morrow never comes.....

This hanging on.....

Onto a life-line....

This idea of a self.....

Most know deep down that all will be lost.....

Yet longing for it and simultaneously afraid.....

The coulda ...shoulda....better...more...next....

There never was another.....
The hungry ghost is you.....

Empty baits....
When there's no fish left to bite....

The stickiness gone.....

One might still face the occasional jibes or sarcastic comments and taunts....

But even though it doesn't mess with my mind anymore....

There is zero desire to participate in any games of one-up-man-ship...

Or to be fodder for another's need for desire to feed....

The insatiable hunger....of an empty ghost....

Or to hang on to a status quo that's long shifted....

Once the fear leaves... and the desire to hang on...

And the need to be participant or get pulled willy-nilly into all that drama gone....

That emptiness is me....

Where there's not even nothing....

And there's no one left and nothing to be afraid of it....

Empty of even emptiness....

Longing to fall.....
And the longing to be held....

Everything goes.....

Even love.....

And in it's wake.....

The whistling wind....

These dancing leaves....

Whispers of sweet nothings.....