In two thousand four, I was touched by a force,
revealing the truth in its natural course.
Catapulted to a peaceful space,
where awe and wonder filled my embrace.

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Amazed by the brilliance of all I could see,
amazed by the feeling of simply being free.
Amazed how "my life" could just fade away,
amazed by the intimacy of all in my way.

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For three weeks, love was all I knew,
grateful and humble, my joy only grew.
Each second infused with presence so bright,
where thoughts had no power, no claim to my sight.

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Until old habits pulled me back,
into the world of cause and track.
Disconnected from what was real,
left me longing to lift the veil 

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I searched and strived to reach again,
but effort alone was all in vain.
Spiritual practice turned to trade,
a cycle where seeking itself was laid.

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Years went by till at last I could see,
the pattern of wanting was binding me.
Grasping had blocked the peace I pursued,
and only surrender could shift my view.

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I once had thought the person was real,
the subject that sensed, that thought, that could feel.
Until I saw—so simple, profound—
the person itself was just a clown.

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It’s truly a world apart to shift,
from Person to Presence, a seamless rift.
For thought creates the Person's name,
an add-on to what will ever remain.

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And what is left but to share what I’ve found?
loosening bonds where suffering’s bound.
For weakening ties to the self-made 'me',
brings glimpses of what it means to be free.

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A person among a world of others,
keeps us trapped as sisters and brothers.
Yet Presence knows no form or name,
unchained, untethered—beyond the game.

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The person will act, will play its part,
asleep in the world, fulfilling its chart.
But waking from Person, shaking its norm,
is the one and only true reform.

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Presence is key, though subtle and still,
unseen, unheard, yet shaping the will.
For here, in the silence, nothing is real—
only a dream that we watch, yet don’t feel.