Messages from the Void

It’s 5:00 AM in the morning, I am sitting comfortably on the end of my bed. My naked back is flattened against the cold wooden surface. I closed my eyes and started my Five breaths. Those laborious five breaths we all take for granted. How hard could it be to take five long, deep and cleansing breaths?.

Mt mind and body fight and conspire against me. Myself is subtly agonized by this simple conscious act. I find myself doing it anyway.

My eyes are closing even more if that could happen. With each breath, I dive deep into something.; Someplace that defines the confines of what is Me.

I or me is now growing pallid and more translucent. My form is fading, my shape can not sustain itself any longer, so I fade and disappear in countless fading specks of dust. I am now less distinct and more soluble to my surrounding. My ears still tell me that I am here; my skin is faithfully present; My body is awake yet detached from the ephemeral aspect of this formless thing that is Me.

As if my limbs are drifting apart, and my body becomes numerous floating parts. My head is suspended in darkness, and my whole body is numb, yet tethered to an essence of me somehow.

So I drift into the world of the formless. This motionless undivided realm of being. As I enter, this world greats me with a feeling of life like no other. An invigoration, or rather, the very start of existence. A new breath is taken,  and I am now born again and one with all.
Everything touches me, and all senses become unified into one feeling. I am now suffused with motherly love and settled within the warm embrace of this dimension that knows no cruelty or suffering.

My imagination here is my conquering power and wield it mercilessly against the blank world. I am now witnessing every creation I call forth and so do all forms of beauty haste at my will. I am now seeing and foreseeing; remembering and recalling the countless days, months or even years of Ecstasy I have enjoyed in this place. A place of vibrant, shimmering ghosts, rubbing against me, permeating me from every corner of my being.

With what organs could I perceive such heightened layers of exquisite eloquence and perfection, since no mind could face this unimaginable torrent of wild purity.

I am cleansed from me and borne into my real self. I am the whispering giggle in this world; I am the sigh, the gasp, the beholder of its real existence. I am the view and the viewer. I am all

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