there's no here now

cant sleep forever, or dream the other side is this side, the dream within a dream within a dream life. there's no here now, no elevation but your hair on the top of the head, no movement but the feet in motion, this universe unwinds, each Newtonian aspect acting one upon the other, generating ceaseless patterns that can be divined from observation. so too is the inner world dominated by habitual patterns of thought belief and desire. so this too can be observed and relegated to the truth of its own resistance and pain/pleasure seeking, the nexus of the soul is not within the body, the body is only a channeling field reacting faster than you can think/sync blink. by the time you realize what is happening. its already done and there's a new sheriff in town drawing the same peacemaker and aiming it directly in the stomach. one false move and you're done for, roadkill and recipes, to know the self inside out is the only true knowledge and all the truth is at the center, not hanging around the fringes trying to look smart. I realized today that my health is not a factor, and the constant bell ringing is in my head not outside, and everything I experience is replaceable with any others experience. life is the movie you're creating, everyone you meet are the crew, some actors some rehearsal coaches some taking pictures on and off the record. the real eye opener is when the can opener comes out and the lid removed, and inside does not look like the pretty picture on the can. that's when follow your heart gets real. what is actually the truth in this huge mess, where is the long road off a short pier now that there's no driver or compass, no wheel to turn or world to live in. the magic fades like the sunset and the night sky reveals the truth of the human condition, billions of points of light arranged in endless patterns and short sighted explanations that reveal only the depth of the teacher and the endless connections to ignorance and projection from where all we can possibly know is just the 7 yr olds epiphany and the natural knowing that needs no explanation.  so now decades later, what is still holding the wall, surrounding the fortress, establishing boundaries, this moment cant exist unless you believe it does, this place of refuge, an open battlefield of time hugging the trenches and waiting for the dawn. there is the heartbeat, and you can feel it, you create it and each one pulses pulling in pushing out, and the lungs breathe the same, the alarm clock is going off, but the sound is only in the dream and  hitting the button only wakens the dreaming self in the dream of self, creating the self world over and over again. the real alarm is going off inside that mess you call yourself, buried beneath the reactions and lies, pretty pictures and terrified truths. what is coming can only be coming once the space is clean the self absent, the truth, self evident no longer, does nothing and finishes everything. space has no perspective, only endless time shrinking everything to a single point inside of you.