Intra... Extra... Unus... Nihil... There is no outside. There is no inside. I looked into the world and saw my face, then looked inside and found the same empty space. The sky is not above, the ground is not below, and the self I built was just an echo in the flow. The air I breathe is not outside my chest— it was already here, already at rest. And the eyes I used to watch the stars were themselves made of stars, and all their scars. No observer, no observed, no border left, no line preserved. The voice that speaks, the ear that hears— both are the same, both disappear. The hand that reaches is the thing it holds. The sight that watches is the shape it molds. There is no distance, there is no place, only the eternal, wearing every face. The end of separation! No outside, no inside! The self and the world have died! We are not two, we were never one— we are the current where all things run! No subject, no object, no wall, no door— only the endless, and nothing more! I tried to find the line between my skin and the air, but the line was never there. The river flows, but it is not apart— the river is the ocean at the start. And the ocean is the cloud, and the cloud is the rain, and the rain is the blood inside my vein. No beginning, no end, no above, no below— just one life learning where to go. The world is not a mirror I hold. The world is not a story told. I am not a soul inside a shell. I am the shell, the soul, the tolling bell. The hand that reaches is the thing it holds. The sight that watches is the shape it molds. There is no distance, there is no place, only the eternal, wearing every face. The end of separation! No outside, no inside! The self and the world have died! We are not two, we were never one— we are the current where all things run! No subject, no object, no wall, no door— only the endless, and nothing more! Not two... not one... No witness... no one... The self is not a flame— it is the burning and the sun. The world is not a stage— it is the dance and the dancer, done. I am the wind and the leaf it moves. I am the silence and the sound it proves. I am the water and the wave that falls— no inside here, no outside walls. If there is no me to be, then what remains is all of me. Not a soul, not a name, not a face— just the endless, filling every space. The wall is gone, the mirror breaks, the river floods the shores it makes. The self is not a thing to see— it is the seeing, finally free. The end of separation! No outside, no inside! The self and the world have died! We are not two, we were never one— we are the current where all things run! No subject, no object, no wall, no door— only the endless, and nothing more! And in the endless, I remain, not as self, not as name— but as the pulse beneath the sea, where everything is finally me. Intra... Extra... Unus... Nihil...
