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Only This Moment is Real

All that is real is this moment. This, right here, right now. This word on the page, this breath on my lips, this drumbeat of truth within my heart. But where is the mind? Does it not run forward and backward trying to make sense of what I can become and who I have been? Forward and backward, trying to fix or find everything that is already existing right now.

Here is the ultimate liberation: only this moment is real. Only this moment is real.

So I breathe. Only this moment is real. What a relief.
In this space, I feel the most complete reality: love.
It feels effortless, all-consuming, infinite.
Moments pass, this love persists.
Hours pass, this love persists.
Days pass, this love persists.
And then, my humanness falls on top of me.
Only this moment is real, but this moment is shit.
The illusion of this moment feels terrible. It is, after all, the divine lila (play) and this is just my role today.
This perspective reveals yet another attachment.  
I look around, I see myself as human. I see my expectations. I see my attachments.
I look within. I see myself as truth. I see myself as love. I see myself.
I look around, waves are splashing, the sea is churning.
I look within, the water is still like glass, unchanged.
Only this moment is real and all moments are the same.
I am everything and everything is me.
Within, I am unchanged in all moments.
Only this moment is real and this moment is infinite.