Formless
When I peer through the windows of my eyes,
so desperately I want to know who I am.
What is the cause of my being?
At times I feel formless and empty,
a collection of memories. Maybe,
no more than arising from an idea.
Here existing in this moment with you.
Life bursts into being out of the timeless pool of the void,
the uncreated, like bubbles - bursting into life,
time and time again.
Disillusioned self-empowered battling ego's, all suffering,
and, all pass through time and space.
Is it society that guides the individual,
Or the power of some ubiquitous force?
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