Slipping still

This sensation of falling now feels like drifting. Lost on the sidewalks of breezy days, I slip by. The signs speak to me, the tree leaves speak to me, the weather speaks to me, describing you in the inbetween. We're moving together in two parallel train cars, you with your last half stare to the left and me seeing your image fade behind the glass glare. My body is dizzy as the cars stand still and the scenery slides past.

Drifting, I cannot tell if I'm moving down or slipping some other way. Behind latitude, past longitude? One velocity is no velocity at all. No inertia, no gravity, we're moving through time, I can't see the change but I feel it with my mind. Wiggle or writhe as the nerves strike, it doesn't matter if I'm fired, my phosphorus gone. It doesn't care that I have no choice, I slip still, I have no grip. Frictionless and quiet.

"Not moving, evolving", as you would say. Yes. This slipping drift has no meaning, it is meaning.

It is 8:58 pm. The gathered faithful meditate metta to us all as we slip away. Feel it surround us, holding us even in the inbetween and beyond.