Questions extend a hand outward
reaching into what?

The sky no further than the fingertips
who is observing? and where is it observing from?

Am I it? As I look back over my shoulder, or
am I merely the participating animation of possibility
thought of in the instant of the question?

Who is asking? As I peer ahead and the mind
attempts to fill the space with experiences it knows
of past memory. I blink, no, not that. The mind
attempts to fill the space with imagination of
the future. No, not that either.

What then? Where? Who? When? The questions
extend.

Only knowing has an answer, existing in the stop and
pause of the moment, where it is both everything and
nothing.

Who is everyone and no one, and What is all and no
thing.

Everything I see in all directions is the reflection of the
inner space reflected upon the screen of reality, created entirely to experience itself.