He approached the edge of the great abyss.
It matters little what brought him there.
He was in that mood, suffice it to say.
He paused at the edge, then he asked:
“What is the use of continuing on?”
The abyss did not answer back.
The abyss has nothing to say.
It is the abyss.
Why do we wonder about it all
anyway? Why? Don’t say it. Don’t.
The abyss is the abyss because it is
our own self, the very self we are
when there is nothing to claim,
to know, to be — nothing.
It is the reason we’ll hear no response
when we’re truly honest with ourselves,
when we dare to inquire that deeply,
when no answer will do, not a word,
not a movement of mind, we are
simply silent. Silent.
That’s all. It is enough.
Don’t believe — just look, listen.
Our original innocence:
let’s stay that way for a while,
for a moment, forever, now
let’s be silent, silent . . .

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