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even still

even if

only an indistinct and distant blur of formless colour is all that can be seen

 

and

just a faint thread of echo makes its way to me through the winds of time

 

even if

only the scent of my own malodorous breath is what perfumes the air

 

and

the flavour of that same, noisome breath is the last taste to rest on my tongue

 

even if

only the soft tympanic pulse of this human heart is all that can be felt

 

while

my mind wildly spins nefarious webs of unsolved mysteries

 

even still

may I rest peacefully in, and of, myself

with the clear conviction

that ‘I’ and those infinitesimal perceptions

arise and fall

in a vast space of being

consisting of

none other than

absolute

love