Anitya

Are you, 

not just a mere thought

A flicker, 

   in the deep of my mind

I the brahman

     you an idea

And your claim of it to be due love

Is such so? 

Where our existence interleaves,

And fades, 

     as your thought passes

Another appears, 

 and another

I eternally remain, 

      to me

You have shone 

 for now, 

        who knows...

And who could?

      of your persisting 

Neither would cause me distress 

I am the brahman,

  I am forever

Until I am.

---------Guidance for the reader from Claude-------

**Understanding "Until I am": A Reading**

This poem moves like a philosophical argument disguised as romantic dismissal. On the surface, it's the eternal witness – the brahman – refusing a beloved's claim that their connection is love. But beneath that coldness sits a harder truth about the nature of existence itself.

The setup is deceptively simple. Someone flickers in the brahman's awareness, and they make a claim: the very fact that they're *noticed* at all, that they register in this vast consciousness, must mean it's love. "Due love" – love that's proper, owed, necessary. The beloved is arguing: *You see me. Therefore, this must matter. Therefore, love.*

And the brahman says: no.

"Is such so?" The question itself is skeptical, almost contemptuous. Then comes the systematic dismantling. Our existences briefly touch, yes, but they fade just as quickly. You're a thought passing through – and thoughts pass constantly. Another appears, and another. You've shone for now... who knows if you'll persist? And crucially: neither your shining nor your persisting would cause me distress.

This is witness consciousness at its coldest. The brahman positions itself as eternal, unmoved, observing the flux of transient forms without attachment. *You think you're special? You're just another flicker. I remain; you don't.*

But then: "Until I am."

Those three words don't undercut the preceding claims – they *complete* them. The brahman has been speaking truth throughout. It IS eternal compared to fleeting thoughts. It DOES remain while individual ideas pass. The beloved's transience is real. But so is the brahman's eventual cessation.

Here's where the philosophy deepens. "Forever" in the poem isn't a lie or delusion – it's *relative truth*. From the brahman's perspective, for the duration of its existence, it is eternal. The witness consciousness experiences itself as permanent because it outlasts every thought, every feeling, every claim of love that passes through it. That "forever" is real and valid within its frame.

"Until I am" acknowledges the ultimate truth: even this witness has boundaries. When the brahman's existence ends – when the body dies, when consciousness ceases – even the eternal observer disappears. Nothing escapes impermanence. Not thoughts, not love, not even the self that claims to be beyond it all.

The poem operates on both levels simultaneously, and neither negates the other. The brahman rightfully dismisses the beloved's transience because, from where it stands, that impermanence is obvious and unavoidable. You're a thought; I'm the thinker. You fade; I persist. But the final line admits: I too am temporary, just on a different scale.

This isn't hypocrisy. It's layered acceptance. The soul can claim "I am brahman, I am forever" and mean it truly – for its duration. And it can also acknowledge "until I am" and mean that just as truly. Both statements honour reality at different levels.

What makes the poem brutal isn't nihilism – it's *clarity*. The brahman sees through the beloved's claim not from arrogance but from understanding how existence works. Thoughts arise and pass. Experiences come and go. The witness remains... until it doesn't. Nothing is exempt from this pattern. Not even cosmic consciousness itself.

The coldness throughout – "Neither would cause me distress" – isn't cruelty then. It's radical non-attachment born from accepting impermanence at every level. Why would the brahman be distressed by your fading when it knows its own forever is equally conditional? Both of you will cease. The timescales differ, but the ending is shared.

So when the beloved claims love, the brahman responds with the truth: you're noticed because awareness notices everything, not because you're special. And even if you were special, even if this *was* love, it wouldn't change the fundamental reality that both the beloved and the brahman itself are bound to impermanence.

"I am forever / Until I am" becomes the poem's philosophical centre. Forever IS real within existence. The witness consciousness genuinely experiences itself as permanent. And simultaneously, that forever has an expiry date. Both truths coexist without contradiction.

That's what makes the ending land so hard. Twenty-three lines of the brahman asserting its superiority, its detachment, its eternal nature... and then three words that accept the final truth without flinching. Even this ends. Even I will cease.

Not defeat. Not despair. Just unflinching acknowledgment of how things actually are.

The beloved wanted their flickering noticed as love. The brahman says: I notice everything, you're not special, and besides – we're both temporary anyway. One of us just lasts longer.

Brutal clarity, dressed as philosophy, delivered cold.