Strange... My life is flashing before my eyes.
I am the river and I am the boat. I am the illusion of time (now, not now), and space (here, not here).
I keep floating past, floating through the many unrelated moments that arise from my memory, perfect yet impossibly small, made of shakti so still, almost stagnant, concentrated. I am suffocating in the feelings and thoughts that were "then."
I float for a moment, the memory insistent fills me, and in that very distant, smallest spot of illusion, I remember the vision of solid land, and a moment that was. The pain is brief. My freedom is sweet. Each time I flow through, it is all swept away. I am released.
The memories are so far from truth that their perfect measure is the reach of karma. The karma is how far afield... how far to find my way back... I burn the karmas of these wagers, these investments in illusion, so small, (that I must emerge from them light and fresh), that the once is scraped off, leaving only NOW.
The final adventure... I keep my destination within sight. I do not control how or when I will arrive back where I started, only that it is certain.
There will be no side journeys. I am headed straight for home. I await myself there.