As My Eyes Begin to Turn

Reflection at the end.

As my eyes begin to turn, so does all the good I have done in my life.  So does the bad.  So does the indifference. Everything closes.  The lights close.  The day closes -the life that you worked so hard at living.  Vision is no longer in the eyes.  Nor sight.  Nor perception.  They reside in my heart -in my mind -in me.  Sound is irrelevant.  Smell becomes incomprehensible.  The entire world becomes intrinsic, breathing within this shell of ours.  Then, as the insect crawls above me, the floor sits beneath me, and the dark creeps into everything, I fade.

Then silence is missing.  Darkness is astray.  There is life where only slumber should lay.  But is it true?  Am I alive in this that should be nothing?   Where am I, if here sit a where indeed?  I breathe still, yet I the breather know not the air I take.  I smell, yet I the smeller know not the scents I take.  I see, yet I the seer know not the sight I take.  I know.  And I the knower know not this knowledge.  And as my mouth open to attempt to speak into this lightened plane, I hear, and hear indeed.  

What speak me? Only a simple hello, that of the need, in an unknown realm.  I speak to hear, and be heard, and such hear I do, but heard am not.  Then my nose reaches its own waking, startled by my mouth, and I try to sniff.  And as I sniff in an attempt to smell this lightened plane, I smell, and smell indeed.

What smell me? Only a simple aura, that of the earth, in an unknown realm.  I sniff to smell, and to be smelled, and such smell I do, but smelled am not.   Then my eyes reach their own waking, startled by my nose, and I try to open them.  And as my eyes open to attempt to see into this lightened plane, I see, and see indeed.

What see me?  Only a simple tree, that of the fall, in an unknown realm.  I look to see, and to be seen, and such do I see, but seen am not.  Then my mind reaches its own waking, startled by my eyes, and I try to know.  And as my mind thinks to attempt to know this lightened plane, I know, and know indeed.

What know me?  Only a simple truth, that of the world, in an unknown realm.  I think to know, and to be known, and such do I know, but known am not.  

But what know me?  I know this place now.  I see this place.  I smell this place. I hear this place.  This is familiar though I am not.  This is my home.  This is my tree.  These are my leaves, my sky above, my earth below.  This is all mine.  Then the horizons expand, shining light unto a whole world of rock, growth, earth, and water.  This is all mine.  This is all me.

Then the cloak of the tree brings me a home to which I graciously accept.  This is mine.  This is my home.  This is me.  The tree watches me through the window, maternal as can be.  This is her.  This is hers.  This is Mother.  And as she watch over, I know what love is.  This is us.  This is we.  This is Love.   Mother give unto me a home and the Love in sync.  She is my guide, my protector, my watchful eye.  Mother.  She is mine.  I am hers.  This is we.  This is Love.