Being is Becoming Still

Existence is a limitless screen of emptiness
Vibrant with jubilant celebrations.
And gratitude for the joy in rolling a boulder blissfully up this steep hill.
Tripping over our own thoughts like loosened cobblestones,
We no longer see the reality directly in front of us.

The truth is a truce we struck with certainty ages ago.
After losing the desperate struggle…
To cling to some kind of hope buried deep beneath the root of ourselves.
I am fearful of fully failing myself and yet
I love myself best when I am alone with eternity.

February 22, 2019 | Categories: beat, death, digital insurgency, Emptyness, Existentialism, Igor Goldkind, literature, Meaning of Existence, Meditations, mental health, Mindfulness, new poetry, poetry, Self-Therapy, spoken word, Therapy | Tags: Existence, Sisyphus | 3 Comments