who are you
when you’re not constantly
on social media?
when you’re not sharing
your selfies, your mundane and mediocre
when you’re not broadcasting
your insights, your threadbare, faded
what do you see
when you’re not there
telling yourself the old stories
(identify – label – judge)?
when there’s no observer
standing separate from
texture, color, energy?
when time and space
disappear, taking out your memorybank (poof!)
leaving . . . . . . . . . what?
who are you in that apocalyptic instant
when you realise that
every hard-earned conviction you hold
is merely an empty concept?
who are you when you aren’t there?
[conceptual answers not permitted; keep emptying!]
Drawing by Michael Leunig – it also accompanies this post from the early days of ‘the echoes':