on the roof of consciousness, the lime and scale deposits that look so amazing and represent the accretions of endless eons of unmoving patience and stillness. these are the length of existences, the yogamaya cycles, the knowingless state that waits for its discovery and hopes for nothing. oblivious, the outer life rushes on recycling endless reasons and deathless passions. a graveyard of excitement reels around squashing the unprepared and carrying the rest to their certain dooms. the funhouse rides and the end of the night explode and crash into the crush of the dawn and the responsibilities pushed up the endless mountains. each steep cliff bearing billions of heaving and wretched souls, forcing the weight of their lives upward to the certain crushing result. as they roll back down with certain swiftness and pain, the world breathes its sigh of relief, for none can know the emptiness or the accumulated karmas lashing their souls to the stones. in all of this what is truth, the letting go of the rock, the running away and screaming in empty madness this cant be real until it stops and the heart sees that nothing matters even the so called realities are empty promises and no one ever gets away from the end or the beginning. the whole setup is a facade of trickery and cheat. the heart is pumped full of drama and souless conceits. all is lost and cannot be revealed for that is the heretic dancing in the fire and the darkness knows no face but fear. to run and hide in the cave, under the hanging pendulous formations and wait, until the rest can join sit and empty the soul until there is no waiting.
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