I am the one who has no name, who has no form. I am the one you can not see even with your eyes. I am the one who laughs at your death. There is laughter at your death, there really is. You are hurtling through time and space and at the end when you see there is no time or space, when you pierce through the veil to the other side, which does not exist, there is laughter. I am the one who sees joy in your struggle, lightness in your pain. I am the one who laughs at your death. I am the one who moves your limbs like you are a marionette, because you are, if you are anything at all and I am the one who watches as you plant seeds hoping for growth and I am the one who laughs at your death. I am the one who sees past the mountains. I am the one who sees past the sea, because even in your holiest of moments you can only imagine that you are as big as the sea. Your body a wave set to crash at the shore and I will be there to laugh at your death. There is no sea, you are not a wave, you only think you are a wave because you have reached the zenith of your majesty and from the top of the mountain you have climbed the most majestic thing you can think of to be is the sea. But water is an illusion and it slips off your skin when you wail. I am the one who laughs at your death, who watches as the story unfolds. I am the one who holds the space for you to even be able to think of yourself as the sea. Who is holding the sea? That’s me. I am the one who has no name, who has no form and I can’t even call you by name my dear child because I don’t remember if even you have a name. There is no end to any of this, no life, no death, no mountain, no sea. Just you and me. Not even you. There is the openness and in the end, what you see as the end, I am the one who laughs at your death.