Resistence is futile.
The ego has gone where it came from;
Nowhere.
It doesn't matter anymore.
At least it kept us busy for a while, provided some good entertainment and distraction in the meantime. . . .
It is gone, already gone, it hasn't left a trace, for it was just a fata morgana, a dream, an illusion, it was never really there. Like darkness disappears without a trace as soon as the light goes on.
It has gone back to never really having been here at all.
The ego has no ground to stand on, it has no way to go.
It left before it arrived. We look at merely a reflection.
And we love it, we are so attached, to taking the reflection for reality. We are the movie star in our own picture show, aren't we our own greatest fan?
We can run, we can hide, we can play, we can fight.
But we can't run away, from ourselves. . . .
And we are coming back. . . . . .
there is no other way. . .
Resistence is futile.
Leave the rubbish
Whatever can be forgotten, is bound to be forgotten.
Whatever is true, is here to stay forever. . . .
