Beyond the Last Contour
where breath slips into being
Beyond the Last Contour
Beyond
the last contour,
the last boundary
of what
you call yourself.
Where breath
slips into being,
and thought
grows still,
there begins
the great unfolding.
Do not reach.
Do not strive.
Only soften,
like a fruit
ripening inward,
like evening
leaning into stars.
Forget
the name
you’ve worn
too long.
Forget
even forgetting.
Let the hush
within you
deepen,
until it opens.
And there,
not as something
found,
but as something
remembered,
the world
receives you.
Not separate.
Not seeking.
Only this:
the whole
returning
to itself.
A quiet invocation toward self-transcendence, an invitation to step beyond the constructed self into the unbounded field of being. It speaks in the language of surrender, not achievement; of remembering, not discovering. In the stillness where identity loosens, the world does not confront you as other, it welcomes you home, where seeker and sought dissolve, and only the whole remains. BJF
This poem whispers of that tender space just between holding on and letting go, between knowing and unknowing. What does it mean for you to soften into being? Have you ever glimpsed that place where the “self” dissolves and something greater remembers you? Let’s explore together, share your experience, your questions, or the moments when you felt the world receive you beyond yourself. Ben
Some years ago I went cycling in the polder on a quiet small road. Not far from the last farm suddenly I became overwhelmed with so much sky around me. I seemed to dissolve in that sky, the road disappeared, nothing mattered anymore. Just the sky and with my senses wide open I was being absorbed in that moment.