Finite Beast, Infinite Space

I live under rules, but I know them for what they are: agreements.
Time says now and later, but that is a costume.
Location says here and there, but that is a costume.
Identity says this is me, but that too is a costume.

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Peel back the costumes and what remains is spaciousness.
Invisible, ungraspable, yet undeniable.
The room between forms.
The nothing out of which everything appears.

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An untrained mind clings to the names, the compartments,
as if control were survival.
But remembering space is remembering freedom.
Breathing not into objects, but into the silence that holds them.

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I am finite in body,
but infinite in awareness.
Both truths rest inside me without conflict.
A beast that eats and sleeps,
yet a field that cannot be bound.

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This is the way home:
to see the mask, and not confuse it with the face.
To bow to rules when needed,
and drop them when the breath reminds me
of the wider sky.