In Every Life

In every life there’s a moment or two when the self disappears, the cruel wound takes over, and then again at times we are filled with sky or with birds or simply with the sugary tea on the table said the old woman I know what you mean said the tulip about epiphanies for instance a cloudless April sky the approach of a butterfly but as to the disappearing self no I have not yet experienced that You are creating distinctions that do not exist in reality where “self” and “not-self” are like salt in ocean, cloud in sky oxygen in fire said the philosophical dog under the table scratching his balls