The Four Walls of My Pain
The four walls of my pain
have no window no door.
I only hear — the guard
pacing out there and back.
His heavy faceless steps
mark empty survival.
Is it night still or now dawn?
Darkness has become my four walls.
Why does he pace there and back?
How can death’s shadow find me,
when my cell of pain
has no window no door?
Out there life no doubt is a blur
from the blazing bush.
Here the guard paces, there
and back — a shadow without face.
Here There is No Space No Will
Here there is no space no will
only not-time, non-will
not-nothing, non-form - mirage and stone—
anti-matter of the brainwashed hollow.
Here there is only taughtology
never and always and non-as ever.
Nothing is borne, nothing now wastes.
Nothing is to be, nothing is now as is.
Here neither am I not, nor not-I
never will hope be borne—
no motion is there no breath
no escape, there is no help
here there is only non-wish, non-sense
and only non-speak and non-end.
No verdict. There are no charges.
The eye sees not. The hand does not jail.