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I is dead. Death is dead and life has no living....All that remains is All


Who, who is who....?







Where, where is where....?







Why, why is why?








What, what is what?






Where O wise among wise,
 is when....?







In what drifting sand-heaps are its footprints






In what continuum is etched its lightning rate 
like music etched on ice?



Can the sage, 
more the fool, 
say that which is being....
and among beings, 
who are what?



Is the spark an entity, 
or 
is it merely part of the flame, 
and
 is the flame only illusory heat,
 or 
does it live?




Who shall know the circle that has no radius, 
and 
who shall know the point that is a line of infinity....?



Where is maya....
If all is maya, who, knowing, sees this illusion?
 Is not his/her knowing also maya....?





In what pitiful hells are the wise....
In what blackest abysses are the oblivious ignorant....?



How shrill is the hunger of inertia,
--how maddening the stupor of extinction 
that 
comes from action?



Hear the voice of shadows....
Look about you into the invisible memories 
of the ether. 
Where are they?



Where are the beautiful....
Where is their beauty washed by the years....
where are the years drowned in the ocean 
of the Unknowing?


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