living nowhere, leaving nowhere

What makes me think I am here?
Or am I feeling I am here
Or I know I am here?

But I begin to notice
think, feel and know
are but functions of the mind
I AM here
Yet am I really, really here
without being pointed, being inferred?

Could it be the mind’s conjuring
an illusionist of sort
making me dream I am here?
Living here now
as I am typing it out for you to read?

But wait a minute,
Who is talking here?
is it not the mind again that is all to this moment
expressing itself in words
yet still the mind as a forerunner?

And you, yes, you,
who else!
Reading my mind
now encrypted in words and sentences
trying to decipher
what is now in your mind
of what was seen
read and possibly, comprehend?

Are you reading?
or is the mind doing its job?
of all its lingual ideas
of concepts already in existence
trying to grasp,
trying to understand
what is now stuck in its own
the mind?

Mind meeting mind
transferring ideas to and fro
I and you a part of it
not apart of it
not depart from it
or separate from it
immersed in its function

of ancient stuff
replayed over again.
Am I living
or seemingly living?
made believe by the mind?

What if I were to leave
all these silly living
and find out what is really going on
Yet, sigh, who is talking these
or thinking these?
The mind again?

What a damn, yet sweet revelation!

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