This world is nothing but an illusion.
What I see with my eyes,
what I hear with my ears,
what I smell with my nose,
what I taste on my tongue,
what I feel with my body—
if all of that disappeared, would the world still exist?
And if it did,
what would remain?
Would memory or time still have meaning in such a world?
Maybe everything we believe to be “real”
is already an illusion.
Maybe we’re just rejoicing and grieving inside a dream.
Who decides what is good or bad?
Who draws the comparisons?
Perhaps every event, every thought, every emotion
holds the same value.
And we’re simply rushing around,
judging things that were equal all along.
What arises, simply arises.
What exists, simply exists.
Therefore, everything I do and say is perfect.
Everything that happens to me is perfect.
It only seems like I’m gaining something—
yet nothing is gained.
It only seems like I’m accomplishing something—
yet nothing is truly happening.
※No unauthorized reproduction
