I am not in the world,
but I have not left it.
Near enough to hear the weeping,
far enough not to drown.
Human enough to feel,
awake enough to let go.
Present enough to care,
empty enough to not cling.
I live at the threshold
where sky meets earth
and nothing holds.
It was lonely at first.
Then silence grew,
not hollow,
but alive.
From the outside
this seems distant,
cold, detached.
I do not correct the view.
We meet the world
through the sky we know.
I am not above or below,
just here,
in between.