IT'S ALL JUST A KIND OF WILD CELEBRATION, FOR NO ONE
Me is the one I think I am.
But that one has never been included in what’s going on—this celebration, this wildness.
Me hasn’t been excluded—nothing is ever excluded from what’s always going on.
What’s going on—this wild celebration—includes absolutely everything.
There are no fences, to leave anything on the other side.
There’s no other side.
But Me is excluded from this wild celebration of reality, by its unreality.
There is no reality, and no unreality.
But Me has invented unreality, and made itself unreal, by saying “I am real.”
Me is exclusion—so it can’t celebrate, and isn’t wild.
Me has invented itself, as exclusion from what is, and as a constant search for wildness and celebration.
By inventing reality and unreality, and insisting “I am real,”
Me sits excluded, and longs for the wild celebration of what always is.