Only the empty can be filled;
If I have nothing, I am rich.
How can I learn what it is to have nothing?
I am so full; nothing cannot enter.
Desires and imaginations, convictions and opinions, habits and reflexes, I cannot even contain them.
They drip and exude from me, they slop over me, leaving a trail; wherever I go I leave a trail of arguments and contradictions, of requests and insinuations, pouring my imagination over life, masking it, covering it with my own projection of myself.
O to be sensitive; O to receive impressions instead of blocking their inflow with my desire to impress.
Stop. Be quiet.
Stand aside and watch. This is the secret.
Your voice is loud in argument; listen, no more.
Your brain is hot with indignation; feel it, no more.
Your hands reach out in desire; see them, no more.
They are your voice, your brain, your hands, not you.
It is they that are full, not you.
Only the empty can be filled; If I have nothing, I am rich.
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SugarCoatedDiarrhea
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