the right hand of darkness

the right hand of darkness or the left hand of god, we all descend and play in the madness of desire, the force of life and the connection to the body, its wants and needs we say but all is in the consciousness, the desire nature of the embodied being. we feel the flesh and the hunger, the life of riches and the availability of easy pleasures. what could be more true than feeling good, having fun with the being totally identified with the body, one to one and having fun. there is no right world or wrong world. the holder of the cup drinks and tastes the wine or water what difference this potion or that all things become dust and all dust becomes man. for what difference a divine self or a self of dirt and ashes. you cannot be the truth without a long acquaintance with whats false. the drinking and partying, the lust and satisfactions, all have their day and night, in there too is the working and struggling, the hardships and worry, raising families or having no family, emptiness or too much to even get your head above water. the drowning of the senses, the overload and coming down, the cures and failings, sickness and death, all create a tapestry of unbearable fullness, a life lived but somehow still unfulfilled for me. i felt the emptiness and knew that was the reason for the excess, the self destruction and the illness, the damned void of the self that had no real connection to all i did except to laugh at the uselessness of pleasure or pain loss or gain even love or unloved, what difference anything made to the void. it waits, with a silence that makes emptiness loud. the sucking void of self, where no one has any truth or consequence, for all are doomed regardless. i walked through that valley alive and dead, in fierce denial and acceptance, yet i struggled with who it was walking, who it was questioning, for there was the void and it denied everything equally. no self no other no finish or failure for what matter trying or success, as failure brought a swiftness to the end.and that in itself was a relief, to slide faster as i threw off the remainder of my life and just said F it all, whatever is left will be what is, its not me, I'm not that, or this or anything in this world or worlds nearby. if there is a me its beyond or between the dimension of existence, the dimension of pressure and change and force and creation, its some endlessness that isn't even that void of all things but is beyond emptiness or fullness, some incorruptible nature of divine absolute purity that has no duality or singularity, and becomes what is through attachment to all that is and all that is not equally and without division. somewhere in what is and isnt there becomes, and what is unknown is manifest secretly.