Winded From Effort

Lost in a world where shadows rule, can there be such a thing as 'enlightenment'? All exists for our own selfish pleasure and yet the real becomes illusionary in appearance. Where is the salvation so eagerly surmised? Where is the role of the Wondrous One, hesitantly awaited in it's role of destruction?

Here and now, the nothing exists like no other. The rapture of bliss is ever pervading and unlike existence, cannot be denied. Surviving, reality eschews itself, appealing to the masses in their quest of desire. The reach becomes reality manifested. Manifested, reality searches for itself and ever fails in it's pleasurable conquest. The two are one and then none. The none becomes.

Demonstrated, life searches for itself and yields to the realms of dispassionate desire. Nothing survives this world or the next, so why the long face?