the quest done

the quest done, my head rolls gently on my neck. i speak softly and admire the birds flying through the air. once there was more, some extra feelings, some thoughts, a banked fire of desires within, struggling with each moment to be come a passion or a problem. now the emptiness is full and the starry nights empty. no more the wondering and make believe magic, but the fullness of existing in everything and everyone, no life is lived that has not been mine, no deed too horrible or love too wonderful, all the steps of becoming done and gone. the shell remaining is pleased to be undone, the life lived finished, the pieces falling apart where there was only dreamstuff holding it together. waking up is the endless summer. everyday the same completion, the light lovingly full and the heart unmoved for all its beating, there is all the world to see and nothing to do. what little remains is the same, one always has no other to be or care for anything. the movement  of the body through time and space is automatic and effortless. where i go is anywhere and what occurs is endless being. outward, nothing changes, the little habits remain as if the paint cannot be removed from the canvas, but underneath the thin veneer there is pure white with no design or thought. what today is, becomes and i have no place in it except filling the bowl with the fruit and grains and yogurt and feeding the flesh one more time. the places i climb to are empty and devoid of the traces of men, their emptiness is complete and filled with joy at the lack of intrusion or change. there i would go without a care for myself, the rock strewn faces and steep washes of stone, communions with the tree dwellers and forest folk alike, i sit alone and am the oneness only.