I am awe and astonishment. I am blanketed in eyes that see magic. I am in love with the world. I align myself with everything that is and find wholeness and goodness in it. I am peace incarnate. I am all consumed and it is made manifest in my smile. My eyes shrink into a crescent moon squint, half closed, basking in the feeling of expansion. I am unmade in the image of humanity and revealed in the image of infinity. I am all that I am, less a piece that I was once, now attractive of all elements of me. I accept and embrace them. Nothing exists which I reject, nothing is not of me. I bring to myself all consuming emotion, I bring to myself their vibrations on every plane. I bring to myself completion and I am wholly harmony. I am gratitude.  I am love. I am light and space and infinity. I am all that I have ever been and all I will be. I am the piece of the universe which absorbs itself, finally reaching the understanding that that is infinity. I expand past language and time and eternity. I finally see the beginning for it is all here and now, every spark of life and conscious potential existing in this singular space, and I see the realization of death. And I am enamored. Immortality. This is Immortality.

This perspective

I stand alone.

Whitewash the world
reflects back a blank canvas,
And I paint the vibration
of my thoughts upon it.

My thoughts create
the people and the grass, 
the sky and the gravity, 
the hunger and the sadness,
the ultimate whine of emotion. 

My thoughts create my fears, 
intense and longing, 
wide-eyed and full, 
brilliant and decadent. 

My thoughts create
and I am unmade and lost in them
for they consume me, 
mountains pile on me stretching into infinity
for every want ever desired and not, 
every decision done and discarded, 
every possibility sits upon me, 
weightless until the weight of all of them crush me
slowly in the illusion of their reality. 

And I am unmade and become them,
so buried beneath myself created ideations
I am relegated to ideation itself, 
and my thoughts create more of me, 
all in aid of trying to find me.

And thus I am unmade. 

Light,  however,  glimmers periodically. 

The people I created with thought
walk and talk
with will of their own, 
as if their holographic construction
evolved into actual sentience, 
and I interact until I perceive them as the reality. 

And then I love and hate them, 
worry and coddle them, 
feel the persecution of them,
until I am buffed by their own thought forms
and I am further unmade.

Then light gleams, a single clear ray. 

I fall in love, 
and she is so bright
inside my closed eyes,

the lightness fills my soul
and it shines out my chest, 
between my breasts, 
and I am momentarily whole. 
For a moment I am
unburdened
by the infinite mountain
of thought debris. 

And I shine, 
and I glow, 
and I absolutely expand
into a feeling of airiness. 
I feel as if I were light and air.  For a moment.

For a moment. 

She is there, 
just not here, 
here she is dense,  a creation,
and one that hurts even as it
brightens me,  inspires me.
She looks like a creation of this world, 
and I see her with open eyes
And thorny flaws
and skin so precious a color I want to weep at the sight of it
for it is so precious to me. 

I enjoy her smile, 
bask in the light it throws, 
and I revel in each and every
gentle gesture she makes
towards me. 

And I am undone.  I unravel, 
I literally unwind all the ropes of
pain and anguish
each infinite whim and thought
conjured to bind me, 
and it feels like falling, 
but I am mere whittled away, 
for a moment at a time,
into what I was, 
until my creation overpowered me.

And that is how you see heaven I think, 
see past the illusion,
see beyond your own minds expression, 
and glimpse the other side. 
Glimpse the next realm, 
another reality,  the other world. 
The other’s world. 

I felt God when I I looked upon her, 
eyes wide open and tightly shut,  and. . . 

. . .   And I think for a moment she saw me,
from her own world,
from beneath her own infinite mountain, 
from her own living grave,  I think she saw me. 

And I was with her in some timeless place for a time.
Until we let the thought forms
back in and they distracted us
into separation. 

The world is whitewashed
beneath the paint and
peeling paper and
splattered beginnings,
heeded endings. 
The world is empty
and I mask the emptiness
with imagination painted like
so much acrylic scree
stuck to the thing. 

And the people are just people, 
extensions of me only
as they are mine mind
come to life. 

Until I saw one and chose to see, 
loved one and chose to disclose.
Until I opened my eyes to
the illusion of the mountain, 
so infinite
and heavy
and imaginary.