Life is But a Wink

And when it's all said and done, and the pawns and kings are placed in the same box, what will we lament?

Where will our mind wander when we breathe our last in this ferry of flesh and desire?

Will we finally see the majesty of life?

Of breath?

Of being?

Will we, as we relinquish our body to the earth, see the magic that was always there in the simple moments?

The eternal primordial AUM reverberating in the silences between thoughts?

Sighing in curious humility at the realisation that the sacred was always in the profane, the mundane, the seemingly trivial: A smile, laughter, the warmth of a lover's body. A tender moment between old friends. Generosity between strangers.

Will we finally see that life was never meant to be a striving, a pursuing, a desperate clutching for security and power, but a deep release?

That all any of us ever wanted was to feel loved, accepted, free to birth our own unique expression of reality.

As our memory, mind, and thought disperse, will we see the foolishness of our obsession with control? That something ineffable is holding the reins here. Something that, in our foolishness, we resigned to pomp and politic.

Denigrated by syntax and dogma.

And what will we think of friendship, love, joy, pain as the edges of this plane begin to undulate?

Will we cling to resentment, or will we, like the flower releasing her petals, shed our attachments even to mind and memory?

Will we, as our story here ends and we begin to see through this looking glass, surrender to the mystery? Face the howling void like a traveller seeking new ports?

And when the static of our awareness begins to transmute, and you feel the eternal pull that has ended empires and galaxies, will you go willingly? Or will you yearn for the old days, for moments long since past? For people and places you once knew? Stories you once inhabited?

This life is but a wink,

a great echo into the abyss

And

we

are

like

dust

suspended

in

a sunbeam.