These Eyes

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 is that all I am ... Maybe no more than a rising from an idea. I am here existing in the moment. A life flashing into being out of the timeless pool of the void, the uncreated like bubbles - Bursting into being time and time again. Self-centered battling egos all suffer; and all die in time. Do not be afraid to soak in the deep silence.