Resurrection

Sometimes, I need to be without words and feel myself in the quiet spaces

between the worlds

the pause

the void

the no-thing-ness

where the shadows get longer when I stare at them,

and I dissolve and become a bubble of air, a weightless feather in the ocean of stillness

I wonder what was there first — the light or the dark and if it is just my imagination that tricks me into this.

I dream it and bring it to life because it is all I can see and be —

Color seeps in when I enter the world of words, forms, and patterns

And how do I know the red from the blue and yellow — so strange that these exist — who came up with that?

There are moments, in between waking and sleeping, when I remember where I was, where I came from

and I breathe myself into being —

to be here once again, leaving my cocoon of stillness and resurrecting myself from the void to be in color and form

until the shadows call me back to the sound of one hand clapping

The sound of one hand clapping is a koan, a paradoxical question used in Buddhism to challenge rational thinking and provoke enlightenment.