Adrift and At Peace


Adrift and At Peace
A cipher, that's what I am.
A cipher with nothing to siphon.
A nonentity thrashed by the swells of substance.
I am quintessentially irrelevant and faceless,
With no consciousness or state of being,
Dilatorily evanescing into the lacuna of emptiness.

Death has not taken illimitable dominion,
But has offered amaranthine rapture in its palm,
Waiting for me to feed on the nirvana bequeathed.
And like a fresh babe, I take all I can.

And then, it is reassured that I am all things.
That I am all things nameless, faceless, soulless;
All things abandoned or forgotten.

Inside me lies an aperture suspended on dust,
supine and golden, always yearning.
It is in the interstices of the self that awakening begins,
embarking upon an exodus to control.

Only in the ever-after are our voracious hungers quelled,
swallowed whole, and encompassed
by eternal tranquility, freed at last.

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