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even still

even if

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



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



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



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



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