POETIC PLAY STUDIO

I am not a concept or a notion,
I am not a theory or an intelligence,
I am not a thing to be interpreted,
I am where I am not,
In between the thresholds,
I stay with the dark,
Troubled by the delusions of oneself,
To be tangled one day,
By the awful unrealistic reality of realities,
As I turn to ashes,
I seek for fire and water,
The spirit of my existence,
Burns and calms the self together,
And I heartily dance with the scars of the mystery,
Losing myself while gazing at the moon with a twinkling formation of stars,
And cry in the presence of falling leaves,
To run fearlessly in the void,
To find a secret door,
To be transformed, 
To be fire and water,
Where nothing can touch or hold,
The essence of the essence.

Or it’s simply another illusion…?
“But how will one know when the illusion is not an illusion”?
And secret message arrived,
“When the question dissolves”