I sit still
where the world no longer has a name,
where time knows no direction,
and sound dissolves into breath.

There is no beginning,
no end,
only the vibration
of what was once a thought.

Everything moves around me
and yet
I remain unmoved-
a stain in the fabric
of what never was.

The center of nothing
is not a place,
not a moment,
but a knowing
that everything and nothing
sometimes whisper the same.