stop searching
the garden is not beyond the gate—
it grows quietly beneath your ribs
stop chasing the mind
its feet are quicksand,
its roads circle back to the place
you began to forget yourself
stop following thoughts
they bloom and wither
in the same breath—
mirages of meaning
in the drought of stillness
that feed on a lie
that there is something
to become
someone to arrive at
a summit to conquer
but you were never a seeker
only the silence,
watching itself wander
let the mind seek
you witness from behind
be the stone unmoved
beneath the river's song
the open sky
through which clouds pass,
but never stay
return to the breath
to the pause between names
to the place
where you do not need to look
because you are
what you were chasing
all along, nowhere to go,
nothing to achieve, nothing
to lose for nothing is lost
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