Maybe it was long before you can remember now,
but at a certain time of day, or even if it was night,
you looked out into the world that you had become.
Consciousness and experience, which had never been
strangers, now seemed to suggest that the objective world
was real, and lacking a cogent argument to the contrary,
you went right along, since seeing is believing, or so
you believed, and in a sort of way you felt relieved
to be just what you saw and nothing more.
But here was the problem: you talked to yourself.
You improvised a running narrative that enabled you
to go everywhere and do anything, because you believed
the inner thoughts which always told you who to be next.
When the voice inside collided with the self outside,
something eventually had to give, since you are not two
people living in one, there’s a name for that in psychology,
but enough about names — there is the body and there
is the mind, though neither one is the actual one,
the one you are when you come undone from all
that you’ve seen and all you’ve believed.
And what is the end of this conundrum?
Just pause for a moment and take a good look.
In seeing there is only seeing, why add somebody to it?
In hearing there is only hearing, in tasting, touching
just that, in thinking there is only thinking,
why add anybody to that?
When you realize that there is nobody there,
that no cartoon arrows meet in mid-air,
you’ll also see there’s nobody here —
no inner self or outer self nor any
self between the two. The truth
is simple: there’s only you!