Poetry For One

[Eodnhoj7]

The River Cannot Go Back

It is said that before entering the sea
a river trembles with fear.
She looks back at the path she has traveled,
from the peaks of the mountains,
the long winding road crossing forests and villages.
And in front of her,
she sees an ocean so vast,
that to enter
there seems nothing more than to disappear forever.
But there is no other way.
The river can not go back.
Nobody can go back.
To go back is impossible in existence.
The river needs to take the risk
of entering the ocean
because only then will fear disappear,
because that’s where the river will know
it’s not about disappearing into the ocean,
but of becoming the ocean.

Kahlil Gibran

Maybe when we are getting on in years Eternity feels better to us.

I felt eternity at the age of 6

Is there really a difference between eternity and now?

[Fairy]

Is there really a difference between eternity and now?

From here to eternity there is no difference of distance.

[Eodnhoj7]

Is there really a difference between eternity and now?

From here to eternity there is no difference of distance.

I feel the 'now' just expands in depth with a more thorough awareness of eternity. Alot of NDE's seem to reflect this.

[Fairy]

Is there really a difference between eternity and now?

From here to eternity there is no difference of distance.

I feel the 'now' just expands in depth with a more thorough awareness of eternity. Alot of NDE's seem to reflect this.

I can see what you mean by that.

For me, Now seems to be my only experience. I cannot get beyond or before now. Now seems to be who and what I am. I cannot take one step toward now, or take one step back to now. Now is immediate and as sure as X marks the spot.

So the awareness Now is as expansive as infinity itself, when conscious, but not so when latent, unconscious.

[Eodnhoj7]

From here to eternity there is no difference of distance.

I feel the 'now' just expands in depth with a more thorough awareness of eternity. Alot of NDE's seem to reflect this.

I can see what you mean by that.

For me, Now seems to be my only experience. I cannot get beyond or before now. Now seems to be who and what I am. I cannot take one step toward now, or take one step back to now. Now is immediate and as sure as X marks the spot.

So the awareness Now is as expansive as infinity itself, when conscious, but not so when latent, unconscious.

True, memory of the past and imagining of the future both occur 'now'.

[Fairy]

“ You fought the good fight, but it’s over.
The war, the one you waged for meaning, for identity, for something solid to hold onto, has ended, not with victory, but with quiet, undeniable defeat.
You lost. The self you spent a lifetime defending, refining, and trying to solidify has bled out on the sands of a desert dream, dissolving grain by grain into the nothingness from which it arose.
Your worst fears are true.
There was never a real battle to win, never a real self to preserve, never a solid ground beneath your feet.
The one you believed yourself to be was nothing more than a flickering mirage, a story held together by habit, memory, and belief. There are no spoils to take home, no grand revelation to claim, no prize waiting at the end of the struggle.
And even if there were, there is no home to return to, no safe place where the illusion could be pieced back together.
You stand, stripped bare of every pretense, every false certainty, every comforting delusion.
There is no refuge, handholds, or familiar self to retreat into. And yet, in this absolute nothingness, something remains, not a person, not an identity, not a victor or a loser, but awareness itself.
Pure, raw, unshaped. Not something you have, but what you are. No longer a seeker, no longer a warrior, just the silent, boundless recognition of being.
Nothing else was ever real. Nothing else was ever needed.“

[Eodnhoj7]

“ You fought the good fight, but it’s over.
The war, the one you waged for meaning, for identity, for something solid to hold onto, has ended, not with victory, but with quiet, undeniable defeat.
You lost. The self you spent a lifetime defending, refining, and trying to solidify has bled out on the sands of a desert dream, dissolving grain by grain into the nothingness from which it arose.
Your worst fears are true.
There was never a real battle to win, never a real self to preserve, never a solid ground beneath your feet.
The one you believed yourself to be was nothing more than a flickering mirage, a story held together by habit, memory, and belief. There are no spoils to take home, no grand revelation to claim, no prize waiting at the end of the struggle.
And even if there were, there is no home to return to, no safe place where the illusion could be pieced back together.
You stand, stripped bare of every pretense, every false certainty, every comforting delusion.
There is no refuge, handholds, or familiar self to retreat into. And yet, in this absolute nothingness, something remains, not a person, not an identity, not a victor or a loser, but awareness itself.
Pure, raw, unshaped. Not something you have, but what you are. No longer a seeker, no longer a warrior, just the silent, boundless recognition of being.
Nothing else was ever real. Nothing else was ever needed.“

You seem to be holding onto defeat for an identity.

[Fairy]

“ You fought the good fight, but it’s over.
The war, the one you waged for meaning, for identity, for something solid to hold onto, has ended, not with victory, but with quiet, undeniable defeat.
You lost. The self you spent a lifetime defending, refining, and trying to solidify has bled out on the sands of a desert dream, dissolving grain by grain into the nothingness from which it arose.
Your worst fears are true.
There was never a real battle to win, never a real self to preserve, never a solid ground beneath your feet.
The one you believed yourself to be was nothing more than a flickering mirage, a story held together by habit, memory, and belief. There are no spoils to take home, no grand revelation to claim, no prize waiting at the end of the struggle.
And even if there were, there is no home to return to, no safe place where the illusion could be pieced back together.
You stand, stripped bare of every pretense, every false certainty, every comforting delusion.
There is no refuge, handholds, or familiar self to retreat into. And yet, in this absolute nothingness, something remains, not a person, not an identity, not a victor or a loser, but awareness itself.
Pure, raw, unshaped. Not something you have, but what you are. No longer a seeker, no longer a warrior, just the silent, boundless recognition of being.
Nothing else was ever real. Nothing else was ever needed.“

You seem to be holding onto defeat for an identity.

Yes, I’m known as missy noone
a fairy from the dark side of the moon.
Who’s a bit of a loon
Never goes out before noon
Noon is too soon
To rise from my cocoon
Only to swoon
At the baboon
On the light side of the moon