Happy Easter

i have trained myself
to believe the impossible

that i am
what i am not,
limited
finite
imprisoned
a slave of thoughts,
the follower, not the leader
tired
hurt
broken
fearful
blind
needy
separate from all i see

if i taught myself this
i am capable of anything,
capable of undoing it,
of letting it go,
of seeing the truth

i fell
for it
and have been scraping my knee
ever since,
abrading my body
against the imagined
friction
of the Universal Open Skies

days gone sour--
is it possible
even to have a "day"?
what is this?
surely it is imagination
of other than what is
(in this moment)

what do you really know
about yourself in this moment,
without any past
or future?
in just this
nanosecond?

is there even time to think about it?
is there anything to know?

is there any time
to make you separate
from all that is?

without a label on "you",
any label at all,
without any label on anything,
what are you?

do you exist
without any word of any kind
to reference you?

just like prior to  language...

every word/concept
crucifies "you"
to make you just that
limit
and causes "you"
to be separate from the rest,
(not that)

i would get off the cross today
and let the world resurrect as the whole it is,
by not chopping it up into little pieces
with labels
that make you
separate from me
and separate hearts that are just dying
to be one