The lens of my sense has silenced me to my own sense accepting the sense of the lens as my sense
With these lenses full of senses that are not even mine, I go around creating more lenses over senses creating new perceptions of my senses
With the new senses, I perceive the world with my senseless senses creating labels.
Labels with tables. Tables filled with my senses, tables filled with the rubble of my senses.
Not knowing the rubble I created on my tables and with these tables filled with Rubbles, I create bubbles, bubbles through which I can no longer see but live in fear to break open the bubble.
I bobble back and forth in the little bubble. The bubble “I” call life
Now I label the life called bubble as life itself, never understanding what life really is, but only perceiving life as I wanted it to be within my bubble
and I blame the nature for not being a nurture to me.
When I understand, actually understand that it is me who separated life into my own bubble filled with my rubble, I may understand my separation of life is not life, my division is not life
For where there is separation, there is always a control over one another, on each other.
Is controlling each other, manipulating one another to satisfy my own individual wants, wants made of rubble in my bubble called Life?
Not knowing that I don’t know, will I come to know about life, life beyond these lenses, senses beyond these lenses?