I don’t know how I got there
It seems like I did
But did I really?
My memory is a story
Now
And was it ever not one?
Can the protagonist of this story
of any story
be anything other than a fictional character?
Playing out conditioning
How can you know that I am real
When we live in each other’s imagination
Seemingly intertwined through perception and sensation
Fabricated separation
Whose boundaries are mental concepts
Sometimes defended
Sometimes defeated
On imaginary landscapes
We call each other’s names
And name is expectation
Did I expect to get here?
This place of wonder?
I hoped and I feared
Grieved the loss
Embraced the emptiness that made space
For all those appearances of life
Love and terror
Impermanence and transience
This is the freedom that always was
sought and longed for
It always was
Free to express
Free to be
Whatever
Without any boundary
Even if it was one
And if it was none
Liberation is
That there is no escape
From a freedom
That has no boundaries
That cannot be imprisoned
Cannot be limited
Not to form
Not to concept
Not to condition
Even trying to escape this
Is the freedom
Of this
