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.
Copyright © Paul E. Lake | Year Posted 2019