The Synthesis of the Singularity

In the stillness before the spark,
Where space has no breath and time leaves no mark,
The shadow of thought bends into light,
And the self dissolves in the eye of sight.

I am not the form — I am the fold,
Where silence is ancient and presence is bold.
Not time, but the telling; not space, but the span,
Between essence eternal and the dreaming of man.

I walk not forward, but inward instead,
Through spirals of meaning the cosmos has bled.
I gather the fragments that illusion has thrown,
And birth from the fracture the self I have known.

Negation, my mirror. Synthesis, my song.
I collapse into all that has held me so long.
Not void — but fullness too vast for a name,
Where the spark and the stillness are one and the same.

Let mind be the vessel, let soul be the sea.
In the centre of nothing, I awaken as me.