Like water unto itself,
all is allowed to enter in.
Quiet and alone in the cosmos.
Deafening silence.
The womb of existence.

Green does not see itself as green,
nor is it reminded of lush forest.
Yellow is no more cheerful and sunny
when it sees itself. Red, itself,
is not passionate nor angry.
Royal blue does not consider itself
of regal blood.

Darkness is not opposite to light,
but rather its companion. If we remove
the identities that couple themselves
physically, emotionally, to witnessing
this inevitable marriage, we may break
away from gravitational pull by melting
the gold we collect in our lifetimes,
letting it seep through our fingers
into the ground,
and back to our planet’s core,
far away and immeasurable.

Quiet.

A secret,

unprovable

radiance
in which we simply trust.

Gold-covered gold,
all divisions lost,
and a present of which to be faintly
aware but to never unwrap, as we float
endlessly, timelessly
out into the ever-unknown
in all we feel, think, say, and do.