Ageless and momentary
I view now the stilled body
in the coffin
I never was, curious as to
where
my mind is wandering after
the great parting.
The body I’ve mistaken myself
for all my life;
the body everyone has tagged me
to be.
And once free from it, (my
mind
taken up with other matters),
I find
there’s no visceral point at
which
to pin down exactly just who I
am
and might have been all those
years –
surely not my adopted,
(only apparently) inhabited
body
nor my spontaneous and fluid,
chameleonic mind;
not my self-imagined,
individualized soul
but somehow, somehow, (I am
told)
a free-floating, ethereal,
eternal ephemeral –
an unimaginable, conscious
window pushed open
upon the ageless and
momentary process of existence.
O child of God, devoid of
body, mind and soul,
who is it then who requires
liberation?
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