The End of Wanting

There was a time when everything was changing,
just as it is now. It was a time when I imagined
the end of wanting might actually be in sight.
Now I don’t care anymore about the wanting —
whether it is present or not — I just don’t care.
In retrospect, I was merely going through motions.
See, it was all a surface bother with no actual depth.
Go ahead, look as deep as you will, there is no depth
to this matter, there is nothing buried on the inside
waiting to be discovered, realized, enlightened,
redeemed, released, or worshiped.
That is just an old trick, a persistent fantasy promoted
by the preachers to snare you into the game, the search,
the quest to find some answer to an artificial question,
to use the mind to grasp itself — what a worthless idea!
I could say: leave the mind alone, leave your wanting alone,
just relax and be quiet, but then I would sound like them,
the con men in their uniforms with their books and beads,
their mantras and secret initiations, their self-improvement
schemes and strategies, their naively earnest devotees.
Now I am just sitting here passing time in eternity.
It is not a happiness, nor is it sad. It is just what it is.
This is the time when everything may be changing,
yet everything still ends up staying the same.
Souls keep traveling back and forth from one room
to another. How long they’ve been doing this,
none of them can say.
Go and do whatever it is you’re going to do, or not —
it doesn’t really matter, it doesn’t mean a thing.

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