Watch how we paint ourselves,
For the acrylic can be the Ego,
A fog where the Game takes place,
The Game of Remembering & Forgetting,
Until one ceases to un-know,
You are, We are,
An immortal speck of the Divine
That yearns to return,
One lifetime at a time,
To the Source of All That Is
Emptiness is Form, Form is Emptiness.