Slice of life
Impossibly brief and thin the slice
in which moment to moment resides the self.
Existence being persistence -
nothing incontinuous exists,
the self completely wedged in, unable
to invade or inhabit either past or future -
(each sparked only in the vital present).
The self lives (so to speak) at all times
with the evidence of its non-existence,
the great truth our veils are meant to hide,
of which the self is ultimately and utterly terrified,
bluffing its way through each successive lifetime.
Existence exists and that Existence,
when we get religion, we call God.
Yet to think, speak or act with God in mind
is to gain the false perspective,
to lose God yet again in the labyrinths
of time, duality and our own self-fixated illusions.
O child of God, slice your life so thin
it becomes transparent and imperceptible.