Leftovers
Any given life is filled with so many adventures, so many misadventures,
All vague perceptions that never happened the way they are remembered.
* * * *
There are indeed many classes, many grades, many calibers, of imagination,
But all are nonetheless imagination, nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.
* * * *
Time is an invention of the human mind.
The eternal moment is all there is.
All meaning and purpose is illusion.
Only the mind moves the clock’s hands.
Only the mind turns the calendar’s pages.
Only the mind measures all things imaginable.
* * * *
Imagination is the creator of everything.
The cosmic universe, the world,
All things sentient, all things inanimate,
All cultures, all languages, all deities, all dogmas,
All histories, all sciences, all mathematics, all music, all art,
All industries, all technologies, all measurements, all space, all time.
Every illusion, every vanity, every everything, under any and every given sun.
All nothing more than imagination.
* * * *
Large brain, imagination, sense of self,
Opposable thumbs, arms, legs, larynx, lungs, cooling system,
Ability to manipulate the environment and fabricate tools, tribalism, superstition,
Made us what we are, keep us what we are.
* * * *
There is no god, only awareness.
All deities are the imaginary creations of human consciousness
Ever grappling with the unknowable.
* * * *
The inner eye of awareness witnesses indivisibly.
Allow consciousness to wander willy-nilly,
And the world erupts into the anarchy and absurdity
Of every form of vanity and the countless judgements it inspires.
* * * *
Science is the never-ending exploration of nature in all its grandeur.
Any conclusion that is not open to question sullies its primary directive.
Despite the fact that existence is an illusion, that it is naught but a dream,
Science offers the most reliable, accurate watchtower imagination can offer.
* * * *
What is history?
My story, your story, his story. her story, their story, our story, the story.
All nothing more than imagination larking about in each and every mind.
* * * *
Positing a god or gods, a creation, a cosmos, a mystery,
That does not include the you that you truly are,
Is absurd beyond all notions of absurdity.
* * * *
History has never existed as more than a fiction of imagination.
It is but a shadow given reality in the vanity of human consciousness,
Ever since its evolutionary ascension in the primal jungles long before time.
* * * *
Nature, whether you love it or hate it or ignore it, is always there,
Timelessly creating and destroying your world, your universe, and you.
* * * *
Why pretend, why make-believe, why fantasize, why feign, you know,
Who-what-where-when-why-how all this is happening,
When you do not, when you cannot.
It is a mystery.
Leave it, weave it, at that.
* * * *
So much suffering, and for what, really, but the mirage of vanity,
The delusions of narcissism and hedonism, the contrail of imagination.
* * * *
You cannot distinguish this awareness, you cannot be this awareness,
If/when you are attached to anything born of imagination.
It is a very timeless realization of the sentience
That permeates the all and none.
* * * *
There are no teachers, no coaches, no masters.
It is you who chooses to school yourself.
It is you who chooses to learn, or not to learn.
It is you who chooses to study, to observe, to realize.
It is you who chooses to put together an imaginary cosmos.
It is you who creates the frame of reference in which you will abide.
* * * *
You are in an imaginary prison of your own making
Until you clearly discern the relativity of consciousness,
And the absoluteness of the awareness in which it wanders.
* * * *
Detach the timeless awareness from the time-bound mind-body consciousness,
And who are you, what are you, where are you, why are you, how are you?
The world, the universe, are but temporal notions born of imagination.
* * * *
All sense of self is but imaginary notion born of an evolutionary context.
Awareness, ever-present, without frames or boundaries, is the only reality.
* * * *
The challenge is renouncing the sorrow of consciousness for the quietude of awareness.
In transcending attachment to the mundane-secular-time-bound world
For the timeless insecurity of immaculate awareness.
* * * *
The body is the result of a seed, a blueprint, ever-changing since life’s creation.
The you that you really are, the you that you really are not,
Has never been what you think.
* * * *
Every culture that has ever existed has had its deities and demons,
All nothing more than the fabrications of imagination,
None more or less real than any other.
* * * *
The identity you pretend is only as capable of functioning
As the given mind-body the awareness you truly are inhabits.
* * * *
It is the essence of the one and only timeless moment,
That the beginnings of all ends are the ends of all beginnings.
That all causes become all effects, and all effects become all causes.
That what is called reality is but an ever-kaleidoscoping sensory illusion.
* * * *
You are the mystery come unto life.
You are the mystery come unto awareness.
You are the mystery come unto consciousness.
You are the mystery come unto imagination.
* * * *
There you so many narcissistic, hedonistic moments are,
Still trying to fill the abyss, still trying to become something.
Things that imagination can never more than pretend to achieve.
* * * *
Negation is simply clearly realizing the awareness that you actually are
Is none of the many concoctions of imagination born of mind,
And letting them all go, and becoming very, very still.
* * * *
The ephemeral dream of consciousness is without tangibility,
Without meaning or purpose, without beginning or conclusion.
Any given existence is nothing more than a fiction of imagination.
* * * *
Rest easy in the forebrain, where all dreaming appears and disappears each and every moment.
The space, where from nothing, imagination weaves its reverie of space and time
In the thunder and lightning of the conditioned mind.
* * * *
You appear but a speck of the cosmos,
Yet without you to witness it, it would not, could not be.
It is an inexplicable, indivisible, quantum mystery born of imagination,
In which observer and observed are interminably intertwined
In the all-pervading, unborn-undying awareness
Prior to all plays of consciousness.
* * * *
Language, mathematics, music, are all inventions of the imaginary mind born of illusion.
They sashay through eternity’s ether like the smoke of all things earth, water, air, fire.
They persevere for only as long as imagination maintains its holographic universe.
* * * *
How can that which is a temporal fabrication of analog creation
Ever fully comprehend, fully surrender, to that timelessness which is prior?
A maddening and pointless exercise to which only fools are drawn.
* * * *
What is sanity, what is insanity,
But all the standards of any given culture
Asserting this or that is or is not acceptable behavior.
Standing alone, standing sovereign, is not for the meek of spirit.
* * * *
Through all agonies, through all ecstasies,
The awareness is ever the same.
It chooses no sides, it chooses no modes.
All states of consciousness are equally transcended.
* * * *
For the awareness that is the omniscient-omnipresent-omnipotent witness to stand alone,
The consciousness of imagined little self must surrender to the stillness which is absolute.
* * * *
How can you who are the unborn-undying awareness
Not be the witness within and without every seed ever born
Across the vast ever and ever of all quantum creation?
Not a string of separate lives, but an ocean of all.
* * * *
Awareness, consciousness, perception, memory, imagination, are one in the same, the same in one.
The cosmos is nothing more than the happenchance of quantum selection since the mystery’s origin.
To suppose some separate creator creating it all, is to misconstrue the fact that it is all very much you.
Not a point to be taken in some proud, vainglorious, narcissistic way, but one to be discerned
As the way it truly is, the way it has always truly been, the way will ever truly be.
You are source, source is you, nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.
* * * *
Ethics in warfare is rooted in complete and utter absurdity.
If you are steadfastly resolved on annihilating an individual or group,
Why should-could-would it possibly matter how you do it?
Dead is dead, no matter the ways and means.
* * * *
Knowledge is perception recalling.
All futures are but empty speculation.
Speculation does not count as knowledge.
It utilizes knowledge to predict possibilities,
But can never transcend its veiled nature.
* * * *
Waking dreams, sleeping dreams, what different, really?
Both are fictions of consciousness, of imagination,
Of minds born of illusory quantum play.
* * * *
Any god or gods born of imaginary notion are false, meaningless idols,
Whose chief function is to feed the narcissism of the individual,
And the collective in which the individual participates.
* * * *
The ever-changing moment.
Sometimes it creates, sometimes it preserves, sometimes it destroys.
There is no knowing what will come next.
* * * *
Every moment is in quantum reality entirely unrelated to any other,
But through the time-bound dream of consciousness.
All continuity is but imaginary notion.
* * * *
There is no creator, only creating; there is no destroyer, only destroying.
And they are both one in the same each and every never-changing moment.
* * * *
It is imagination that clings to all its imaginary notions.
Reality is ever-changing in its ever-same, indivisible way.
* * * *
The last human …will it be a man? A woman? A boy? A girl?
Who will it be? What will happen? Where will it happen?
When will it happen? Why will it happen? How will it happen?
What will be the last story of the final spark of human consciousness?
* * * *
What happened a moment ago, what will happen a moment hence,
Is not where the wheel is hitting the road, and only imagination cares.
* * * *
Each and every moment is a new beginning, a new ending.
Why believe, why imagine, you can ever hold on to anything?
* * * *
Every life form is the same quantum mystery, the same awareness, indivisibly alone,
Each peering out into a completely unique, completely sovereign creation.
If you are questing an omniscient-omnipresent-omnipotent god,
That grand vision of totality, which also includes you,
Is as real and true as it can ever get.
* * * *
Did something happen for a reason? Or did something just happen to happen?
Fallacies are mistaken beliefs, especially ones based on unsound argument.
Piecing together things to give meaning and purpose where none exist.
Mind is good at connecting dots, but often into great absurdities;
* * * *
You are indelible awareness.
Try not to believe what you see.
Try not to believe what you hear.
Try not to believe what you taste.
Try not to believe what you smell.
Try not to believe what you feel.
And most of all …
Try not to believe what you think.
* * * *
We are all first and last in our own little dream.
Every window of time offers its own articulation.
None are greater or lesser, despite all assertions.
* * * *
All values, all standards, all morals, all ethics, all ideals, all principles, all tenets, all beliefs,
Are subjective, arbitrary, fallacious, sentimental, distorted, idiosyncratic,
Skewed, prejudiced, colored, slanted, biased, personal.
Meaningful only to minds conditioned, habituated to believe them.
* * * *
It is imagination that clings to all its imaginary notions
Founded upon the sensory-mind quantum matrix.
Reality is ever-changing in its ever-same way.
* * * *
Take an hour, split it in half.
Take that half and divide it in half,
And then half that half into yet another half,
And half and half and half again and again and again,
Until there is but the half-est half that half can consciously be,
And that half will still be more half than the one and only twinkling,
In which all time born of human mind imagines its measured passing to be.
* * * *
Glance over at the weary old woman sitting very alone at the thieving slot machine three stools away;
Chain-smoking cigarette after cigarette, downing as many gin and tonics as the waitress will allow.
Though she does not even begin to fathom it, she is just as much the indivisible mystery as you.
So do not get all pride-filled and judgmental believing you are special for discerning the obvious.
* * * *
Become a stranger to the mind-body that the timeless awareness you truly are inhabits.
Be as aloof toward your passing dream of consciousness as you would be to any other’s.
* * * *
What is to feel happy for? What is to feel sorrow about? What is to feel angry at?
What is any passion but the self absorption of desire and rage and fervor,
A dream that is not real, has never been real, will never be real.
* * * *
I am center stage in my dream, you center stage in yours.
What is to be done but play on however the mystery calls.
* * * *
Cultures across every time and geography have always added imagery and idolatry
– gratuitous, frivolous, meaningless usurpations ever born of imagination –
To their ceaseless speculations regarding this unsolvable mystery,
All of which are utterly pointless when it comes to the quest for truth.
* * * *
The universe is an ever-mutating theater of quantum design
How it came to this or that, how it continues on,
Only ignorance imagines knowing.
* * * *
No, not that.
And not that, either.
And throw out that one, too.
Such is the destiny of all speculation.
* * * *
So many speculations, none any more or less true than any other.
What point the delusion of knowing what can never be known?
* * * *
Spin that narrative however you will, it is just a story.
Imagined, fabricated, temporal, bounded,
Destined to be forgotten.
* * * *
Pain and suffering are created by imagination’s flight in the illusory winds of time and space.
To be still in the awareness that is source, is to detach from the body and the cosmos it creates.
* * * *
Would you every be as concerned
What any other creature thought of you
As you are some stranger passing on a sidewalk?
* * * *
The human paradigm is an outcome of memory cells created through evolutionary happenstance,
Through natural selection in such as a way as to conjure up a sense of self,
And the rest is the imaginary tale we call history.
* * * *
No matter that it be alleged fact or fantastical fiction, all thinkers, all writers, all actors,
All historians, all scientists, all mathematicians, all engineers, all electricians,
All architects, all carpenters, all chefs, all tailors, all cobblers,
All inventors, all producers, all originators,
All creators of every variety, every scope, are storytellers.
* * * *
Someone creates a story.
Someone else believes it true.
Someone else builds a toll booth.
* * * *
You have been a time-traveler ever since you were born,
And will come to a complete halt when you die.
Such is the dream for all living things.
* * * *
Any given system tends to eventually grow too large, too unwieldy, too stale,
And is usurped by more adaptable systems unbound by the same constraints.
It is the nature of the manifest garden, the manifest universe, since its creation.
* * * *
It is impossible for awareness to exist.
It is but timeless witness to a kaleidoscoping quantum dream,
Over which it has no control, no say, whatsoever.
* * * *
The indelible voraciousness of humanoid consciousness
Traps the genomic paradigm in an endless vortex
Of every conceivable narcissism, every achievable hedonism.
The old monkey’s-fist-in-the-coconut narrative played out forever again.
* * * *
Awareness is witness,
Imagination, the dreamer,
Quantum, the theater.
* * * *
The tyranny that desire and fear, power and fame and fortune,
Have over the human mind is an unending theater of absurdity.
* * * *
The moment is timeless.
It harbors no beginnings, no endings, nor anything before or between or after.
Those are the dominions of imagination.
* * * *
To be as still as the awareness that perceives it all,
To be free of all desire and fear, all musings, all conclusions, all speculations,
All the weavings of the ever-kaleidoscoping senses,
That is the challenge.
* * * *
Alive or dead, what does the mystery care?
Here or there, what does the mystery care?
Light or dark, what does the mystery care?
Happy or sad, what does the mystery care?
Kind or cruel, what does the mystery care?
Black or white, what does the mystery care?
Sane or insane, what does the mystery care?
Witty or obtuse, what does the mystery care?
Infinite or finite, what does the mystery care?
Creation or destruction, what does the mystery care?
Atheist or believer, what does the mystery care?
Subtle or blatant, what does the mystery care?
Wealthy or poor, what does the mystery care?
Smart or stupid, what does the mystery care?
Right or wrong, what does the mystery care?
Male or female, what does the mystery care?
Straight or gay, what does the mystery care?
Love or hate, what does the mystery care?
Good or evil, what does the mystery care?
Sage or fool, what does the mystery care?
This or that, what does the mystery care?
* * * *
The only duality, the only dichotomy, with all its blacks and whites,
Nears and fars, larges and smalls, heres and theres, rights and wrongs, loves and hates,
Pluses and minuses, goods and evils, creations and destructions,
Is fabricated entirely of imagination.
* * * *
Plug five senses – sight, sound, smell, taste, touch –
Into a neurotransmitter capable of higher consciousness,
Capable of imagining a sense of self journeying time and space.
Add memory, larynx, opposable thumbs, two legs, lungs, cooling system,
And an inherent predisposition for tool-making and intricate social interactions.
Sprinkle into that biological stew a few dashes of desire and fear,
And, poof, a theater of unmitigated absurdity.
* * * *
There is only awareness, immaculate and ingenuous, indivisible and absolute.
It is not Brahman, nor Tao, nor God, nor Allah, nor Jehovah, nor Zeus, nor Jesus, nor Buddha,
Nor any other graven image on high, born of consciousness, manmade or otherwise.
* * * *
Every creature plays a sensory universe.
Every creature taps into a wee slice of the quantum pie.
An itsy-bitsy sliver of the web of life sponsored by the electromagnetic spectrum.
Finite is finite, no matter the perspective.
* * * *
Be exceedingly wary of those who believe their own propaganda.
Regarding your own self-deceptions, your own fallacies,
Do your best to keep them to a minimum.
* * * *
There is nothing more.
Nothing to achieve.
Nothing to grasp.
Nothing to do.
Nothing to be.
All but a dream.
* * * *
We are all actors upon the stage.
Most believing their parts real and true.
Some more believable than others,
But all dreams, nonetheless.
* * * *
Only in pure awareness, free of all pasts, free of all futures,
All movement of the clouds of consciousness,
Are you free in the dream.
* * * *
Why bother pretending to know what can never be known?
Only delusion and greed assert anything beyond comprehension.
* * * *
Only imagination desires and fears, likes and loves and hates, creates and preserves and destroys.
Only imagination wallows in pride, envy, gluttony, lust, wrath, greed, and sloth.
Only imagination determines all things separate and unequal.
Awareness is indifferent to all attributes.
* * * *
Awareness has no time to create or destroy,
Live or die, give or take, stay or go, happy or sad, love or hate, good or bad,
Right or wrong, smart or stupid, kind or cruel, rich or poor,
Sage or fool, black or white, this or that,
Duality is not its purview.
* * * *
That which can be perceived is not the timeless quantum.
That which can be named is not the nameless awareness.
* * * *
The me-myself-and-I is a delusion born of imagination.
It but a fictional player in the timeless eye of awareness.
* * * *
Amazing how much pain and suffering we all put up with in this sensory-mind inspired,
Three-dimensional, touchy-feely, extremely finite, extremely illusory, ever-kaleidoscoping,
Tangibly intangible, ethereal, electromagnetic spectrum quantum matrix of a dreamtime.
* * * *
Breathe in nothing, breath out nothing.
Repeat until the last unborn-undying moment
Consciousness is capable of sustaining.
* * * *
The cosmic garden is an indivisibly immaculate creation.
Imagination is the creator of original sin, the last sin,
And all the incalculable ones betwixt and between.
* * * *
The ephemeral moment offers haven to neither joy nor sorrow.
That is the dominion of the temporal mind imagining all things so.
* * * *
The three vanities – power, fame, fortune – are the ways and means of greed,
And greed, of pride, and pride of an indefatigable capacity for perpetual delusion.
* * * *
You are attached to anything tangible or intangible
That distracts you from the pure beingness of awareness,
Anything that draws you into the endless web of consciousness.
* * * *
Awareness is awareness.
What is to intellectualize.
What is to mythologize?
What is to dogmatize?
What is to illuminate?
What is to symbolize?
What is to systemize?
What is to idolatrize?
What is to translate?
What is to elucidate?
What is to canonize?
What is to ritualize?
What is to worship?
What is to convert?
What is to believe?
What is to imagine?
What is to venerate?
What is to persuade?
What is to interpret?
What is to formalize?
What is to evangelize?
What is to proselytize?
What is to propagandize?
What is to institutionalize?
What is to traditionalize?
* * * *
What creature has not been the transcendent timeless serenity its entire existence?
Only the human species has fabricated a hellish enterprise of this magical garden world.
The gods and demons it has mythologized are but the vanity of imagination’s divisive nature.
* * * *
That you are co-creator, co-creating, is not an ego thing.
It is an actuality thing, every moment of every existence.
* * * *
From nothingness, awareness.
From awareness, quantum.
From quantum, chemistry.
From chemistry, biology.
From biology, medium.
From medium, consciousness,
From consciousness, imagination.
From imagination, Me and Myself and I.
From Me and Myself and I, illusion and delusion.
* * * *
Awareness is the clarity, the simplicity, the transparency, the eternity,
In which the thunder and lightning of consciousness
Equally plays any and all dreams.
* * * *
The same awareness is in all life,
It is neither mine nor yours or theirs.
It is without attachment to any structure.
And equally plays any and all dreams.
* * * *
All gods and other mythological creations are un-provable assumptions
Born of the inexplicable human need to rationalize their inexplicability.
* * * *
Regarding the infinity of the mystery into which we have been cast,
No one can ever know more than the speculations of imagination allow.
* * * *
In the Bhagavad Gita, in Lord Krishna’s discourse with the warrior, Arjuna,
He states the manifest aspect consists of eight material energies:
Earth, water, fire, air, ether, mind, intellect, and ego.
And that the higher nature is the life force
That permeates all things and sustains the Cosmos.
This two-fold nature is the womb of all beings and things.
It is the source of all Creation, and that into which it dissolves.
That there is nothing higher than the Self that clearly discerns this,
That “All That Is” hangs upon this Self like “pearls threaded on string.”
And that those few who absolutely, without doubt, see this, become That I Am.
* * * *
There has never been even one instant in all eternity
When you are not the unborn-undying changeless nature.
All perceptions, all dichotomies, are but imaginary constructs.
* * * *
There has never been even one instant when you are not the unborn indivisible nature.
All perceptions, all causes, all effects, all dichotomies, are but imaginary constructions.
* * * *
Imagine yourself back to the moment you were conceived,
And re-examine, re-witness, from that timeless, spaceless beginning,
The womb, the world, the cosmos, you have in time traveled, in time created.
* * * *
Truth is not something that can be taught, nor can it be learned.
It is about fully attending the moment; not the triviality of memory.
* * * *
Observing, contemplating, the imaginary expanses of the mind’s kaleidoscoping theater,
All seen, all heard, all tasted, all smelled, all touched, all anything,
Is the nothingness of quantum play.
* * * *
Dreamtime.
More dreamtime.
Even more dreamtime.
Soundbites
Religion is human vanity given over to absurd quibbling in much-ado-over-nothing fashion.
* * * *
Imagination ever takes flight, ever creating its imaginary cosmos.
* * * *
How is it so many relatively intelligent, rational people still believe in magical thinking?
* * * *
Your sleeping dream, your waking dream, what difference, really?
* * * *
Nature timelessly creates and destroys without artifice or theatrics or agenda.
* * * *
The life force is not about you; you are but an imaginary story in your own mind.
* * * *
Does time create consciousness, or consciousness, time? Is one without the other?
* * * *
Wisdom is the absence of delusion.
* * * *
Imagination is the weaver of continuity, but where is continuity in the eternal moment?
* * * *
The life that you imagine is but a subjective dream, as real as any cloud.
* * * *
Ceaseless what absurdities groupthink can contrive.
* * * *
The absurdities of groupthink are unending.
* * * *
One wonders how many times has God blown out his brains watching the human absurdity.
* * * *
It is not ultimately real, yet we must pretend it so.
* * * *
Rationality and absurdity are diametric players in the theater of consciousness.
* * * *
Yet another layer of absurdity whipping at what little sanity remains.
* * * *
Everything is over before you know it; only the perceptions of imagination remain.
* * * *
Absurdity abounds.
* * * *
Hope dashed on the rocks yet again.
* * * *
Truth is stranger than fiction.
* * * *
Imagination cavorts about the stage, but quantum physics runs the theater.
* * * *
The first and last delusion is believing you exist.
* * * *
Lessons in absurdity.
* * * *
Consciousness is its own trip.
* * * *
Absurd beyond all notions of absurdity.
* * * *
The vanity the monkey-mind considers so real and dear is not to any other creature.
* * * *
When it comes to the mystery, there is no knowing; only the speculation we call knowing.
* * * *
There is neither beginning nor ending to the creation-destruction dynamic.
* * * *
What are goals and plans but rabbit holes in your dream?
* * * *
What is vanity but the bravado of consciousness.
* * * *
Purpose and meaning are nothing more than concoctions of imagination.
* * * *
What is any life but frozen moments of perception.
* * * *
Are all creations born of consciousness inherently flawed?
* * * *
Battling over this opinion or that is such preposterous human fare.
* * * *
Gauging what others think of you comes round to what you think of your imaginary self.
* * * *
All the rationality in the world cannot reverse the inertia of its absurdity and horror.
* * * *
We are all compost for the dreams to come.
* * * *
Despite all efforts and delusions to the contrary, Mother Nature is still in charge.
* * * *
Is polite society anything more than nasty people pretending they are not?
* * * *
Awareness is the only constant in the ever-changing quantum dream.
* * * *
Memory is the perception that this or that happened, but did it, really?
* * * *
The record of perception plays over and over and over, pretending, ever pretending, its reality true.
* * * *
The Great Game creates winners and losers, but what are you if you stop playing?
* * * *
Another day wandering the relativity of consciousness.
* * * *
So vain as to believe we are the only ones; so vain as to believe we are not the only ones.
* * * *
And why would most if not all of what you believe matters, matter to anyone but you?
* * * *
Memory is the wellspring of consciousness as dictated by the frame of reference.
* * * *
All beliefs are declarations of delusion, even the belief in nothing.
* * * *
The mystery creates the brain, and the brain, the mystery.
* * * *
Life is an intoxicating dream, an intoxicating illusion.
* * * *
What is called living is but an imaginary state of mind.
* * * *
It is all pretend.
* * * *
Imagination creates heavens and hells, and everything between.
* * * *
Is imagination real? Only to minds lost to delusion.
* * * *
Everything you do belongs to a world that you did not create.
* * * *
What effort we put into all our absurdities.
* * * *
To believe one fable is to believe them all; believe none, and peace is the bargain.
* * * *
Regarding truth, what you want it to be, hope it to be, believe it to be, means diddly-squat.
* * * *
Trying to alter a true believer’s catechism, why bother?
* * * *
You must teach your Self to let go the imaginary mind.
* * * *
There you go again, imagining you exist.
* * * *
Thinking is an addictive habit to the juggernaut of imagination.
* * * *
It is imagination that pretends to exist, not you.
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Life is but vague perceptions stored on neuron trails.
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You are the mystery come unto consciousness.
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You are the mystery come unto imagination.
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Nothing linear about it but for an imaginary state of mind.
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Reality is of no importance but to imagination.
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If you must believe in something, believe in nothing.
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To approach the moment with a fresh mind is too easy to imagine.
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Imagination is ever bent on clinging to its creation.
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You are lost as long as you believe any story real, especially your own.
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Life is a collage of undone perceptions.
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What is this quantum enterprise but a maze of infinite dreams.
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Yet another dream born of quantum dust.
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What is death but the end of an imaginary state; what is birth but its beginning.
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Such is the nature of the dream that the awareness of now passes into the perception of then.
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It was all a hoax, a dream, an illusion, from moment one.
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Rest assured, Mother Nature does not give one iota of a hoot what you believe.
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Consciousness is a function of awareness.
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Which is more arrogant, to realize you are that which is god, or believing you are not?
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You are far more vast than imagination can allow.
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Do not misperceive what you imagine your Self to be with what you truly are.
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All history, as scientifically as it might be sorted, boils down to scholarly speculation.
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The art of speculation is a game of smoke and mirrors.
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All perceptions of existence are but a mirage of the quantum mind.
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The point of old age is realizing how absurdly mundane it has always been.
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What can you recall of even a moment ago but the vaguest perception?
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Never real but that imagination deigns it so.
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what great difference do you believe you have really made in this cosmic swirl?
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You are an eye of the mystery; what need to believe?
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Pandering to fear and absurdity again, are we?
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Being in the moment requires no belief; being in the moment is not capable of belief.
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Talking heads and dittoheads share the commonality of an eerie absurdities.
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Consciousness is the creator of space and time, a quantum dimension born of imagination.
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So many seek until they find a new game of charades that is but another lie of consciousness.
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What is to surrender but a dream born of attachment to imaginary notion.
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Does it all count for something? Only in imagination.
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The life you hoped for … planned for … even expected … well, good luck with that.
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The dream, the imagination, will always draw you back if you allow it.
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A new tack, a new leg, to the dream.
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It all means nothing but what imagination concocts.
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Live in whatever ignorance you will, the mystery of awareness equally abides all dreams.
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Meaning and purpose are the spice of imagination.
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The joy of god, the sorrow of god, are but imaginary states born of the dream of time.
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Longing for what was, hoping for what will be, are the suffering in which imagination dwells.
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You are awareness, the eternal moment, creator and creation, there is no other.
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All but a dream based on all the attachments to the mortal frame.
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With but a glance, a cosmos is created.
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In the vagueness of memory, all things are possible.
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There is no knowing the truth of history; it is all the speculation of storytellers.
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You are the center of your imaginary universe, nothing more, nothing less, nothing but.
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What need to conquer a world you have created?
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Consciousness is but a player.
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The world, the cosmos, exist only in consciousness; they are nothing in the ever-present moment.
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The human paradigm is an impromptu passion play founded upon imaginary notion..
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What is Creation but a wave heading toward its own shore.
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Be cautious about believing you know things you cannot.
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Face it, your entire existence has been a fabrication of imagination; awareness, cloaked by vanity.
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Do not rely on hope.
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In less than an instant, this moment too shall be a memory subject to imaginary recollection.
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How can there be different dimensions when all appearances, all attributes, are but illusion?
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Clinging to a dream, what torture.
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Imagine a world, a universe, in which you have never been known.
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Best to be cautious about pretending you really know something.
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And what do you believe you have accomplished that will matter at all to eternity?
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Pretending you exist again, eh?
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He with the most imagination suffers most.
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Imagination’s reign will be but a relatively short one.
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If you truly believed in God and Heaven, would you not be seeking to get there quickly?
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Life as we know it is a lot of moments strung together by imagination.
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The winds of consciousness, of imagination, blow through the sky of timeless awareness.
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Every time has its own little window of absurdity.
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Seems like a lot of people still believe that world exists.
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Alimentary canals surrounded by prattle and notion.
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What is any life but a set of moments strung together by imagination.
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Awareness is true Self; imagined self is but imagined self.
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Trial and error is the brick and mortar of all creation.
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Imagination is creator and creation.
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Fabrication that it is, knowledge will always see itself out.
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The body is but the regalia of a dream
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What a different world is created by hysteria.
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Awareness is witness; imagination, the dreamer; quantum, the theater.
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Imagination can only usurp awareness for as long as awareness allows.
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The dream carries on and on until death do you part.
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Pretending you are not insane is insane.
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There is no becoming, only being; imagination is the source of all vanity.
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Anybody who believes they are not crazy is crazy.
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The human condition is founded entirely on imagination.
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What is knowledge but the futile attempt to be secure in a merciless dream.
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Empty the cache of all memories, all perceptions, all assumptions; free your Self.
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Doing not harm is an exceedingly relative perception.
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Is time any more than a function of memory cells?
Rationality or delusion, you choose.
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All in a dream, all but a dream.
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Why torture your Self for so many imaginary reasons?
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The delusions of self-interest wander many paths to many dead ends.
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How can you save what was never more than a dream in the first place?
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What point to existence if awareness does not use it to explore the creation to which it is home.
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What could you possibly do to make it more or less the dreamtime it is, has always been, will ever be.
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You are only as useful as others perceive.
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You are the most immaculate you the immaculate mystery could immaculately create.
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Nothing matters but to vain notion.
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Are you deluding yourself that you are not deluding yourself?
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The imagination-driven universe awakens to a new day.
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Yet another talking head believing their yabber really matters.
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Original sin is but an imaginary notion born of dogmatic thinking.
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The freest mind is the one not suffering the contractions of consciousness.
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Nothing matters only as much as imagination imagines.
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Possibilities, imagine them all.
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Whatever you believe will tinge whatever you see.
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Gravity deceives you into believing you are not floating in space.
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Only those lost to absurdity argue or ignore with facts.
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Yet another auspiciously inauspicious day; perception is all, attitude is all.
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The awareness prior to consciousness is as near as you can be to anything called god.
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To believe the jungle owes you anything is a first and last error.
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Awareness harbors no duality; that is the purview of imagination.
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Behavior may be modified, but the essential underlying perceptions ever remain the same.
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Is faith anything more than another world for delusion?
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How ludicrous to believe any label, any meme, even begins to encapsulate anyone.
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What is this momentary dream but one kaleidoscoping phase after another.
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The electromagnetic spectrum is far beyond far, any reckoning to which consciousness might aspire.
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All insane, some more functional than others, that being called normal.
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No belief is real belief; no faith is real faith.
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A rare few see reality clearly, without effort, and move on at ease with their brief dream.
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Consciousness and imagination are different words for the same thing.
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Imagination is the harbor of duality.
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What is consciousness but the flurry of its own proportion.
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Absurd assumptions make for absurd dogma.
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Why engage with any dualistic notion?
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What is fashion but a lot of vain people pretending they look like more than pigs in makeup.
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Imagination exists, not you.
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True belief requires no belief; true faith requires no faith.
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An mind given over to awareness is attuned to conscious breathing.
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It is all just speculation, it is all just wordplay, until you discover it for your Self.
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Imagination is its own boon; imagination is its own bane.
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Dreamtime, more dreamtime, even more dreamtime.
Breadcrumbs
Don’t share your delusion, sorry; please go annoy someone else.
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So weary of pretending to be a human being.
All the vanity, all the greed, all the pain.
But hey, what is a god-man to do?
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Materialism has played a big part in my absurdity.
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Do I laugh? Do I cry? Do I love? Do I loathe? Do I enjoy? Do I suffer?
Do I Create? Do I preserve? Do I destroy?
What a thing, this fickle mind.
* * * *
I be a human being who happened to be born in Kaliforny,
In the Disunited States of America at its height of its delusion and greed,
And never had the acuity nor the craving to get out of Dodge.
Being inside the dronosphere was a big plus.
* * * *
Oh, for a quantum-piercing time machine
To watch how the human paradigm plays out.
Will it be as madly dystopian as I imagine?
* * * *
Alas that I have been such a disillusionment to so many people
Along the long and winding road that has woven this mind’s tapestry.
Such is the destiny of those for whom their cosmos is the first and last pearl.
* * * *
Please do not hesitate to take your delusion elsewhere.
* * * *
… Once upon a time I was six …
… And then sixteen … and then 26 … 36 … 46 … 56 …
… And now 66 … perhaps someday 76 … maybe even 86 … or even an improbable 96 …
… What a dream …
* * * *
How monotonous to be surrounded by true believers,
Followers, minions, sycophants, groupies, toadies, gofers, hangers-on,
Devotees, disciples, flatterers, adherents, supporters, admirers, enthusiasts, underlings,
Cronies, yes men, fans, acolytes, favorites, optimists, subordinates, slaves,
Fawners, bootlickers, brownnosers, and ass-kissers.
Give me a nitpicking skeptic and a grousing cynic any day.
* * * *
About as foreign a foreign policy as absurdity allows.
* * * *
Spent life looking for meaning and purpose until I finally realized there is none.
That the entire human drama and the dreamtime in which it is set,
Is but an illusion, a game rigged for delusion.
Possible Last Words & Epitaphs
Once upon a dream
* * * *
This dream, this cosmos, no longer exists
Sketches of the Once Upon a Time
Nightmare
Dreams have never been a high priority in this existence,
But there was a recurring one that began back in the years before adolescence.
One in which I felt helplessly, hopelessly, powerlessly trapped beneath a suffocating, bean-like torrent,
Which only ended when I finally realized it was my spirit being conditioned by the world.
It may well have been the first intuition of all that has since transpired.
My (Not Quite) Haiku
A collection of 'not quite' haiku inspired by Bart Marshall's "One Hundred Two Haiku" from his book "Verses Regarding True Nature."
Verses Regarding True Nature
https://versesregardingtruenaturemarshall.blogspot.com
One Hundred Two Haiku
https://onehundredtwohaikumarshall.blogspot.com
More from Wikipedia on Haiku and other poetry genrres that originated in Japan. In the 17th century, two masters arose who elevated haikai and gave it a new popularity. They were Matsuo BashÅ (1644–1694) and Uejima Onitsura (1661–1738). Haiku was given its current name by the Japanese writer Masaoka Shiki at the end of the 19th century.
Haiku
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haiku
Translations of Ancient Writings by Bart Marshall
Ashtavakra Gita
http://theashtavakra.blogspot.com/
Tao Te Ching
http://theperennialway-taoteching.blogspot.com/
Bhagavad Gita
https://bhagavadgitamarshall.blogspot.com/
Yoga Sutras
http://yogasutrasbypatanjali.blogspot.com/
Dhammapada
http://buddhasdhammapada.blogspot.com/
The Book of Ecclesiastes
https://21ecclesiastesmarshall.blogspot.com
My (Not Quite) Haiku
When was it I stopped crying?
When I saw the universe
for the dream it is.
This moment
is all I could ever imagine
letting go.
Can any cloud be more dark
than the stoical cynicism I bear
towards the dream dancing in my mind?
The universe is an ever-mutating show of quantum design
How it came to this, how it continues on,
Only fools imagine knowing.
Adrift in the ether of awareness;
Consciousness swirling around and about.
No destination known.
Had I known what I know today,
Would have only made for another trail of discovery
In the helter-skelter of dreamtime.
Polarization at every turn.
Imagination … the combustion of consciousness …
Locked in ceaseless struggle for survival.
I imagine,
Therefore, I imagine I am.
And the recording plays on and on and on …
When it comes to this Grand Mystery,
Why would anybody believe, trust, imagine, accept,
Anyone else truly knows any more than they?
An agnostic mind, knowing it knows nothing,
Freely wanders, anonymously wanders, serenely wanders,
Though the madness of a delusional illusion.
I putter, therefore I think I am.
But what am I, but awareness locked in a vat of flesh and bones,
Witnessing a figment of imagination wandering an illusory matrix of space and time.
Alone again, naturally.
The world, the cosmos, naught but a mind-body dream.
Just the way I likes it.
An illusory matrix, chock-full of vain dreams of becoming.
But what more can any truly be,
But the way it is, right here, right now.