A picture of a mountain with a lake in front a boats on the water

The Universe Inside

I am nothing

and yet I am everything required

for life and life abundantly

for death and death wholly

the full capacity

of human experience contained

in this sticky skin, this wet material

the sinewy strands and the fluid

that courses through fragile

and delicately sewn fabric within me

the touchable, breakable stuffs

that miraculously blur together into

sensational waking life

the tear of pain, rush of excitement,

agony of loss, fear, confusion, love

the equilibrium of these mechanical

wonders that we

experience as


the mystery of questioning mystery

the untouchable, unfathomable deep

that chills as with ice

within and inexplicably without

of longing in search for meaning

for reasons these meaningless fibers

seem to mean so much

the urge to experience that which is beyond ourselves

outside of our own confinement

outside of the eyes we’re caged in for all of

our own conceivable time

the voracious desire to share

all of this inescapably selfish experience

with someone else so confined

what is and why does

any of this exist

and does it exist at all

Life right here in me all along

in the infant, in the child

in the weathered woman

already resting inside

in the dying that is living every day

the aging of that which makes me

absorbing, releasing

and, wrapped together in the mystery of time,


Image via Raisa Zwart

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