everyone exists somewhere

everyone exists somewhere, but no one exists anywhere. you are the emptiness of your desires and pleasures and suffering. don't fear the loss of love but rather the lack of truth. one time is everything, the rendition of repetition is living in space revolving around the same point endlessly, thinking this will get me where I want to go. sometimes its necessary to realize you are laying on your back in the middle of the ocean, there is nothing above but empty sky, you are breathing, this is consciousness, alive aware awake, you know you are a point in space experiencing you are a point in  space, breathe. arms outstretched, buoyed by the surface tension you do not move but rather let the tidal and wave action move you. pointless, you might disappear completely. when you close your eyes, you could be anywhere, nowhere, lost in space. there is no agreement here on where this is, no one to agree with, and even if someone else was floating out here, what more could they know. a bunch of you could hold hands and band together, eventually creating a living raft that floats in the middle of the ocean. you could share your experiences, psychically tune in to the moment and see the intersections of each consciousness at the same pointless point in the middle of nowhere. eventually the life raft would become a layer of floating bodies and the living could crawl on top, and layer after layer, the island of selfs would evolve, until there is a community with reasons and rules, built on the layers of the dead and soon to be dead. the more dead the better, more stability and area. until everyone forgets the source of being and believes they are somewhere doing something and all life is about this growing the island, but its not even an island anymore, its a citadel of untruth and its sinking slowly into an indescribable sea of emptiness that has no other reference or existence. all we are is the residue of past lives exchanging each other for a new series of the same actions played from a different role, now I am the father, now I am the sister, now the rich man, now the thief. what has changed, only the point of view, the part the actor plays, all else is the same graveyard and certainty of return to its embrace and to return from that also as a new character, a new life, but not a new consciousness, for everything has been seen and done and now repeats endlessly for the sake of rendition round this single point in the endlessness of space.