Maybe

It seems all these strangers know me.
Maybe this is only a dream
that the inner world and outer, overlap.

Maybe there is no difference between the two.

Dualism only exist in us.
One can not be without two
when parts then are one
in themselves.

Two and one,
numbers,
are only a transitional phase,
only zero is complete.

Maybe all these individuals are me,
that I eventually finish experiencing
as I,
one after the other.

Maybe everyone is one,
simultaneously experiencing the world
blindfolded,
touching the elephant.

Our oneness only registers in collective awareness,
the natural selection of the right,
the highest conscience of consciousness,
the survival of the fittest hearts
in the jungle of heartlessness.