sometimes,
life spells too much emptiness
the distance of time ahead promising nothing
nothing at all,
like a parched river bed whose comeback depends on seers
a time of high drought
that lasts for years
other times,
life blinds one with goodness,
thoughts of suffering, only fleeting
‘I have no time for pain and suffering’, the soul whispers to the spirit
every dream capture in exact tranquillity
no opacity,
clarity of enjoyment
death and life,
one must complement the other,
an end signals new beginnings
in between the struggle to be happy
some, get stuck inside the emptiness,
it is their choice to manually terminate existence,
no judgement.
others, fight hard to entangle from emptiness,
this is the true meaning of living
continuous entanglement from emptiness.
this is how it is.
everything is still everything
