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Some seem to think it’s only a
perpetual motion, the compulsion to keep
moving, keep doing, to watch others moving
and doing the same, that life is all about,
a share in perpetual motion.
But it’s when I pause, in mute
detachment, that the whole scenario
becomes framed as a photograph; as
in my mind gradually develop aspects
of a universe - my universe.
All things, all actions, instantly present,
are ideas, my ideas of what is, what
occurs; I don't see this as unique;
but what’s objective in every I's
personal experience of reality.
In each, the universe is experienced
as greater than I, in which perspective I
am reduced to the idea of who I am
in the all; but where the universe
never escapes the context of I.
I realise that beyond dispute I
hold the universe that matters to me: colours
and shapes are only in my eyes, sounds
are witnessed only through my ears; my
heart, the heart of the universe.
And when I die, does the universe die,
as virtually it must? No, it is sustained
in the self-same I: there's the clue, the I
that never dies; each I that partakes
in time of ‘the I that never dies.’
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