i used to look forward

i used to look forward to my day off, but now, its frightens me. the lack of purpose, meaning, what does a day off bring, that enveloping anxiety, the emptiness of hours to just look at walls and feel the absence, of anyone and anything to relieve this eternal pressure, this expanded sense and ground. always being open, to the larger senses, the unknown openings, this life without doors or walls or windows, and then to be in them without a point of contact, to drift like dust in the breeze, the dust that covers everything here and needs swept everyday, that universal reduction of elements to the ubiquitous sameness of granular perfection, dust.and in that form i have lost my sense of where or in what manner or direction, for its meaningless to go when all directions lead here.i cannot wait eternally or be in this senseless state with nothing and no one. it has no color or design, no pattern or texture. its lacks the comforts of recognition and offers only the lack of anything else. i am there in my one room, the clothes washing the floors clean, the dishes put away and no hungry, not lacking just endless being though the sense of time stretches or twists as the sun rises and eventually will set and like the stars above, the moon collects and passes through almost silently though i hear the whisper of its madness as it too sits unwinding without a strand of understanding. calls go unanswered, notes never finished sit in draft pigeonholes that have no size or shape or place, and my life too sits in there away from everything like an unused thought or a forgotten memory. where is this hole i cannot see and what is the picture my eyes reflect all around.i am in paradise but what is that and who is there. i cannot remember myself and theres no one to remind me. the life i remember is gone, the existence i have is untouchable, it has no dimension or taste. i go and come but nothing moves, there is no difference here or there. one moment is just like all moments and what difference can be where all is the same. i know this life has just as much joy as depression but what is it without either. this looks like nowhere even in the midst of it all.

though I know this seems like self abuse it is the world between past and future and before joy and after suffering, it is not pain but rather a blank wall of indifferent diameter that surrounds the sense of loss, the sense of not being some continuation of what I was and rather having stepped off the plane in mid flight. the falling becoming neutralized by the tremendous altitude until one forgets that there is land below or space above. and yet when the land does rise up and the sky alights with dawns rosy orange light and birdies become the firecrackers of dawn, there is sublime pleasure, enjoyment delight that is untouched by any remnant of the past or uncertainty of future. this instant becomes a reduction until just the essence is refined and the one drop tasted that is indefinable and unexplainable. i'm not the end of myself but the beginning of what is being born, the silence and the cry for life bound into all possibilities and let float upon the stillness and move effortless through the storm. there is no sense of entitlement or expectation but to give to serve and to do what is possible to let love flourish.