You didn’t want me to find out. Even though I knew it. You wanted me to hide, even though I wasn’t hiding. I was only invisible to you, even though you saw me all the time. Staring straight at me, staring right through me. Nothing without me.
 
I was you. Nothingness. The rest in restlessness. The end in endlessness. I have never began and never will end. Except by my Master’s choosing. Our Master’s chosen road to go.
 
I am not your whining friend. I am not the playground where you mind your time and put yourself into place in space. I am not the fodder of the carnivore who eats and eats and still wants more.
 
Silence speaks through me. I do not hear it. I am its presence. I am its gift of life into this present tense. I am the haven that seems to go around the bend till it curves again. I am the one who calls the sun to rise and have it fall down from the sky. The maker of dreams comes through the seams of my stitchery that has the world bewitched. And, still, I sit. Into the place of me, the only one there is to see. You discard me as the reverie of life that you do not need to pay attention to now. Somehow, you’ve said it is okay to go astray. It is. You are right. And you are wrong. Into nature’s throng you have folded yourself neatly like a thing of the past that needs to work, needs to eat and needs to sleep.
 
I am the one who sees you through. I see you happy. I see you blue. Mostly, I see you confused.
 
Rest your weary head, O mind of mine. The clock strikes twelve, three times, and when you look in front of you, or even back behind, you will see me standing there. Still.
 
You will see me when it is your only will. I can wait. I am the keeper of the clock. The watch tower that sees all that it wants to call, to beg, to sin, to end, to begin, again. I am the one who tolls the bell. There is no sound that comes from hell. The only sound that comes is from me, the OM, the AUM, the great AMEN, for all of thee.