The noise of silence, the fullness of emptiness. Nothing comes that doesn't go. The balance is absolute just as is. Call it existence if you will, but there is no separation by which to furnish the conceit. So call it love and have done with it. Bless.
Samuel Beckett b otd 120 years ago!
“Dance first. Think later. It's the natural order.”
“The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new.”
“The end is in the beginning and yet you go on.”
“There’s man all over for you, blaming on his boots the faults of his feet.”