詩; poetry

not even this…

not even this, yet again...

Oh Mara, how enticing these screwdrivers,
to unwind the greatly bound winding,
only to wind up, behind, yet again.

So no, like the monkey, paws in pitch,
armed with numerous techniques,
realizing, the slow paw br<e|aks,

Free by stopping,
by br<e|aking,
not self,
not we,
not mine,
not ours,
not because,
not in the past,
not in the future,
not in the present,
far beyond one hundred eight conjectures,
I am not even this.