What if there were no gurus
but only each one of us
leading the next
toward the light we know?

What if there were no spirituality
but rather all life
becoming sacred
in our awareness of it?

What if there were no death
but only a seamless experience
expressed in the inhalation
and exhalation of form?

What if there were no questions
but rather all thought
understood instead through the heart
and its songs?

What if there were no discourse
but only poetry
No words
but only art
No purpose
other than expression?

What if
we never woke up
but only dreamed
because dreaming was the point
a promise fulfilled
a world created
from behind our eyes

What if there were no god
no Creator
beyond each one of us
as fractals birthing fractals
Divinity worshipping itself
every holy moment
bearing witness to itself
in every mirror
until Love folds in upon itself
and the infinite
births the infinite
out of the pure nothingness
wherein we were all conceived?

What if
you cannot read these words
but only write them yourself
and then remember
Ending exactly
where we all began?