Nullarbor Musings

A lone figure runs
Across a landscape
Dusted by silence.
Only the rhythm of
Feet hitting the
Stretched out surface
And the steady flow of
Breathing can be heard.

An emptiness overflowing with fulness,
Where all worlds move and are still.
Humanity's aspiration-cry
Strikes the earth.
Heaven's Blessing-Light enters,
Fills the mortal human sheath,
And is released -
An invisible offering
To be shared with all,
Perfectly absorbed by
The resounding stillness.

It seems no time exists in this world.
A great quietude engulfs the one,
As if having been placed
In a self-addressed envelope
By God Himself.