Where the Light Touches Nothing!

I feel like a prisoner—trapped within my own body, which has become a cage. My mind, once free, now paces behind invisible bars.

In meditation, I often find myself in a vast room at the center of my consciousness. One wall is lined with countless screen-like windows, each flickering with distant light. Two large gates stand on the opposing walls, silent and unmoving. Behind me, a small pool flows into a larger one below, and above them sits a lone chair. She sits there—my higher self—cloaked in shadows, her presence reminiscent of ancient, knowing and silent.

I wait in that room, surrounded by darkness, hoping for a flicker of light. Sometimes, during meditation, the light breaks through—briefly, beautifully—but the darkness always lingers. Sometimes, it swallows everything.

I often feel like an outcast. When I reveal my true self, people turn away. I wonder if I am nothing more than a mask—a hollow figure in a world built on illusions.

Even when hope appears, it feels fragile, fleeting. I wait, I endure… only for it to collapse into emptiness once again. A whisper of something real, followed by silence.