It, is something I feel but don’t see. It, is always with me everywhere I go, sitting right there on and in my chest like it owns it. It is the push to get me up to make tea, and the pull back to sit back down. It animates my arms and legs towards a girl I like, and lights the fire in my loins. It’s the most potent friend I have in the world that I have never seen, will never see.

I am aware of It, always. It’s the silence that I carry and the chaos lurking beneath. It’s the eyes behind the eyes, looking, watching from a distance but in an instant right there with me, eyes wide open and glaring. When I meditate it comes forward and sits with me. I look at it and see a fuzzy nebulous thing, always escaping scrutiny, analysis.

It, is faceless, egoless, all accepting.

It is the first and final mystery. It is an eternal mystery.

It, is the the last thing I will feel on my final blink.