This life, this experience, this day…not enough, somehow. Looking, searching, yearning, is there not more? Why…not? Where is there more; beyond? Other lives, others’ lives, magical beyond proportion, it seems these days that this is not sufficient. I wish, I wish…Some spirit of the Universe, come and lead me, take me to the beyond, beyond being; beyond my being. Do I not…deserve; have I not carried the burden of my life to the furthest edges? Is there not more? Lead me! Take me! Detail? Texture? Density? You say to me that I hear the muted conversations with the self of selves which stretches time and condenses experience? Pay attention, rearrange the bounds of being and the boundaries of the categories which I tell my self are the edges of my being that I wish to go beyond; I tell myself so that they will melt when I arrive. Transcendence?
Tomorrow…is now here. I sit looking down upon the river of life which flows from the end of the land into the oceans of life, of other being. I float upon waters where the gravity of pushing down is borne lightly by the buoyancy of liquid’s deep. Transcend yesterday; tomorrow is now here. The yearning of what was toward what will be, is where I sit looking back, looking out. Where am I that I have arrived?