the soundless terrain

, invisible in the darkness, just as featurless in the light. i am not here or anywhere, theres no place to find myself in. its not here that i am or any one place. its the ocean of being and the realization of truth, where is the air, where is space, time sits in dali's masterpeice folded like damp washcloths, i unseat the emperor of me. what lingers is the posters on the walls and sign bearing his slogans, but the roads are empty now, the wagons of war dissolved and missing in inaction, undoing, memoryless measurements of meanings lost, the woken sleep no more and the death of life is the beginning of freedoms flatness and foreverness, like a space that has forgotten its place, but wanders in eternity without a clock.love is here, in a sudden rush of liquid heat that flushes the senses. i reach the tip of a pointed rock and see  sawing gaze across a trackless vista. everything is everywhere, not in one giant thing like it was at first but more like an endless supermarket aisle stretching down and down and down, its all there and here i feel nothing about the products, all repackaged goods all made from the same goo of the universal life force, smeared and molded and lit with colors and excitement that has no real emotion. the path becomes the world wide jungle, humans birthplace and cauldron of life, i feel the enveloping pulse and push of the primitive seeking and fearing triumph and loss without end. play on sweet musical masterpiece the songs of existence crash into the wall of awareness and fall silently into the struggling sea of reborn samskaras and murderous fears. something shifts the world into a whispering wind through the blades of grass waiting for the footsteps of some enlighened being some false god or creature that would trod upon them and sing like a fairy lost in the night. whatever this is, it seeks only madness for there is nothing here to hold it aright.