Who knows Nothing, really?

Who knows Nothing, really? Who knows God, God only knows It lives within the realm of Nothingness. Not just Nothing, which is still named and therefore obsolete But an ever-deeper expanse of awareness and stillness Folding and collapsing in on itself By its own gravity

We must completely empty to even begin perceiving Reality Until then, we trudge through the quagmire of language Struggling to find solid footing Truth is a slippery rascal. From time to time, we meander near what looks like safe shores, But, like the parched traveller grasping for a mirage, Our senses are betrayed

A helping hand always appears to show the way out Many won’t risk the ground collapsing under them Others prefer the mire; its brazen perceptibility feels safer. Some accept the help and hold on for dear life, Escape to freedom and safety, with treasure in hand, New and glorious vistas open up Life coasts by seamlessly, almost magically, For a time.

One day, the beautiful spell starts to lift And even the vast expanse of the universe feels hollow Freedom doesn’t feel … entirely free It is at that moment A few daring souls decide to look down And open their palms, Ready to let go of the helping hand, Set it free — there’s more to be Slowly unclasping, expecting some kind of release They’re stunned to find: Nothing!

Now, where does one go from here? You tell me, But without a word, Or a thought.

Kiruthika Rajeswaran