Art Supplies

I stood
at the entry to
The Mystery,

basking in the
Light of the
Eternal Present,

where I have
no beginning,
no end,
and I’m forever
safe.

I looked around and
rejoiced in
the freedom
of knowing
there is no
past here.
It’s vanished.
It doesn’t exist.

Nor can I
lay my hands on
the Future.
It’s nowhere
to be found.

I’m free.

But then
I noticed
this moment
seems to be
predicted by that
last moment,
even though
it’s gone.

I saw my
freedom
being arrested by
my past.

Just then
my mirror
image
emerged from
somewhere in
The Mystery.

“Come inside,”
I said to
my Self.

“We sell
art supplies
in here.

“Let’s see what
you might be able
to do with that
next moment,
and the
next one,
and the
one after that.”