Forgotten ocean

you don’t become who you are,
you can’t go anywhere else:
for you are only this stillness;
as still as the ocean currents are
still,
where you are and how they are,
here,
and patience isn’t very hard,
not at all; in fact,
for it remains too, going nowhere,
waiting for nothing,
waiting is nothing;

all letters simply float to the surface,
like noise scattered from its source,
perfect is the dissolution
when you are the great ocean,
from which all rivers flow,
and all is near forgotten.