Unfurling in front of me, Reality weighs nothing On the palm of my hand. I look into the emptiness, Into it I mindwalk, I transgress The non-boundaries of space and text. The weaving is made of layers, Like my surroundings of prayers Of hopes and pains and liars. I enter into emptiness. It is cold and bold and dull, Papers of life, deaths of friends. That is emptiness, I guess.