No-Thing to Know

Photo by Lynnsey Schneider on Unsplash

There's no-thing I want you to know.
I simply am.
If I desire you knowing me
it comes as a longing.
A longing of acceptance
because something in me
doesn't fully accept myself.

Yes, I am my truth.
What I express, do, am
are all aspects of truth.
Even when I lie to myself.
How can it not be?

In no way can I not be truly me.
All the layers, the clouds,
the stories, the games - 
they are all aspects of
my truth, however
muddled or subtle.

I need not justify me.
I spend way too much time
in longing for different
or acceptance.
The either-or of
wanting peace.
Inner acceptance, outer change.
Inner change, outer acceptance.
Both battle for my will, my focus.
Both true and untrue.

There is no-thing I want you to know.
I'm tired of knowing.
The mind gets so fixated on its 
belief that it could ever truly 
know anything.
In fear of not-knowing, it seeks.
Grasps. Devouring so-called
facts, information and even wisdom.
But how can wisdom be harnessed?

Like me, isn't its truth ever-present
as Is, ever-changing from Is Not?
With Not being some kind of illusion?

There is no-thing I want you to know.
Or maybe I do want you to know no-thing.
It's the no-thing that is the closest
that my tiny semblance of wisdom 
knows as truth.

The empty. Ungraspable.

I revere that.
And in some way I trust 
that I am that.
And then no-thing allowed for something.
A perception, maybe.
And all these perceptions 
poured in, became multi-faceted
and real.
Creating me.
And then I longed.
Longed to be touched,
to be loved, to be seen,
to be known.
Because I believed I was -
I am - something.

And that something longed
for validation to make
itself more real than no-thing.
In fact, feared no-thing,
feared its own emptiness.
Always wanting something,

So, in truth, I affirm:
There is no-thing I want you to know.

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