Unbelievably Unborn and Deathless

The dream of leaves is waiting in this morning's snow. Although the spring’s potentiality appears to be a frozen void and blank impossibility or any metaphor for signifying nothing.

But from that ground in March, the buds of life will suddenly appear and blossom, growing into worlds fantastic. Such am I. From out of nowhere, I arrived.

And then the world conditioned this mere presence to construct a fabrication full of thought and raw emotion. There I lived forgetting what I am, like a wild and anxious being in a jungle of abandon and destruction.

But wisdom is always in the wind. Return to being and appreciate its simple unbelievability and more. Or less. For what we see as nothing comes to claim itself again. There never is this something else—

being has never been.