The wisest moment,
is bottomless and empty.
It wants for nothing,
not construed,
with no lens of need,
no surface towards recognition,
no preparation for words,
yet tethered to everything.
But with no pull of polarities,
there is less tension
then an ocean's sense of itself.
The wisest moment . . .
would never come to know
what self-consciousness
could deliver.
This moment is enabled
but undifferentiated,
entitled but unencumbered.
There are no reservoirs
for eagerness,
no frame for closure,
no compulsions towards focus.
The wisest moment,
fails to realize itself,
within its passage of time.
As it self,
it is muted wistful bliss . . .
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