Time

There is no past.

Past is just memories.

There is no future.

Future is just dreams.

There is no now.

For now is the illusion

Of the divide between

Memory and dreams.

There is simply this.

This happening.

This arising.

This dissolving.

Time is a construct

Of the me

Sleeping in the dreams

And reveling in the memories.

Me

I’m not worthy. I’m worthy.

I’m not special. I’m special.

I’m anxious. I’m at ease.

I’m exhausted. I’m energized.

I’m a failure. I’m a success.

I’m divided.

I’m at war with myself.

I’m separate.

I’m me.

Me is an illusion.

There is no me.

There is no one worthy or not worthy.

There is no one special or not special.

There is no one at ease or anxious.

There is no one energized or exhausted.

There is no one succeeding or failing.

There is only oneness.

There is only wholeness.

There is only emptiness.

Thoughts arise and fade.

Feelings come and go.

No one is observing the thoughts.

No one is feeling the feelings.

There is only this.

Life happening.

Full on.

Non stop.