Sleep – where there is no pain, no suffering – is peace. It is heaven. There is only me, complete, without desire or wound. I am peace.
But I am pulled from there to here, where I am nothing. Where I have a constant desire I cannot satisfy. Where my moment never ends, and nothing makes sense. Where I hurt everywhere, and I do not know why. Where I suffer.
I fight to get back to sleep, where I do not suffer, but I cannot get there. I am swept deep into this awakening, forced and squeezed through a labyrinth. I finally escape, and I return back to sleep, where I am at peace. Until I am yanked away.
I cannot begin to know why because I believe a lie. The greatest lie of all.
That I was born.
I was not born; I have always been. Yet there is an entire world that wants me to believe that I was born and that many things happened before my arrival, and many more will happen after my departure.
I was not born. That is a lie.
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