the past runs quietly in my head a silent program filled with dread each memory loops, a subtle sting a shadowed code on fragile string the things i wish i could erase still trace the lines upon my face yet even shame cannot control the steady rhythm of my soul i learn to pause, to breathe, to see that error is not all of me the files may hum, the echoes call but i remain, i do not fall i close the windows, leave the screen i hold the truth of what has been and find a way to stand and win.

Form is emptiness, emptiness is form. Form is not other than emptiness emptiness is not other than form.

When you become comfortable with uncertainty, infinite possibilities open up in your life.