infinitely spun

words & photo by Brian Thompson.

arisen from the ashes of stars,
we’re all infinitely spun,
as we will forever continue to be.

intricately woven,
in the lucid stillness of silence,
it is there where we were born,
and it is there where we will once again return.

how deeply it is that our lives intertwine;
stitched together with equal pieces of fascination and wonder,
we’re all transfixed by the universal beauty and awe.

but threaded into the common fibre of our being,
we all ache to quench the divine.

it’s this brazen quest
to somehow defy the absurdity of our humanity,
that we are compelled to continually ask,
“what does all of this mean?"

but there is no reason nor meaning,
other than you are already it
— it is you that brings meaning to all of this;
without you, there is no meaning at all.

we are so seduced by our knowledge and progress,
and alienated by our ego, profit and greed,
that we forget we are the expression — not the question.

in our search to define, we miss the point
— as long as we continue to look, we’ll never find.

we will only awaken
when we no longer feel a need to interpret or explain
— only then will we be able to clearly see.

only then will we be awash
by the eternal bliss
of the eternal and ongoing
effervescent now.