And so it came to me that
I was not so much a person
As a prison and that only
Freedom mattered.

The bars of my body
Let in just so much light.
Enough and no more.
So I would have to
Find my freedom outside
Of myself.

The silence had done its work
And the noise had packed up and gone.
Now the nothingness said, “Come with me.”
And I left for what I did not know.

Death is not what you think it is,
For thoughts are incapable of knowing anything.
The one that thinks he knows is always wrong.
Two and two making four is irrelevant.

What stays is the mystery of the moment.
“I don’t know” is the new mantra.
And there is no one to say it.
Only an empty prison cell.

Vicki Woodyard