Resurrection

You are the resurrection—

the tears that have drunk their senses dry,
forgetting the depth of the Ocean herself.

You are the moonlight
that forgets the truth of darkness,
and the darkness
that truly forgets the light.

From dirt, a hand breaks through—
like Thriller at midnight—
you rise.

You are the death of life
and the life of death.
You are Resurrection.

No need for matter,
yet matter, in fact,
is you.
For you matter—physically, spiritually, wholly.

Rise from the ashes.
Rise from the depths of your awareness.

Thank you for sharing.
Thank you for knowing.
For being.

Pain leaves the body
like a deep, trembling cry—
a cry of release,
of relief,
of resurrection.

Maybe it’s the cry of the Unknown—
coming home.

Millions of miles away is home.
Its geometry is sacred,
different,
but still sacred.

Connected to the Universe that holds the whole—
we are.

“Death to the dying, life to the living,”
the saying goes.
The reincarnated,
the space-suited,
still return—
for matter matters not.

Balance.
Of course.

Where matter is death,
and un‑matter breathes—
there lies the shift,
the crossing,
the resurrection.

Thank you for visiting me.
I am grateful for your lessons.

Resurrection.