What is the “thing behind the thing”
The “what” that isn’t there—
Or is it the “who”?
We constantly wait for the something coming,
Delaying our happiness, forgetting the now
Our eyes dim, weakened from straining for unknowns
Our desire subsides as we pant
Because we refuse to notice the breaths
We miss the point of the divine
The thing was right here (or there?)
The whole time.
