Reality.

Drifting off to sleep.
I know the moment when, a jolt that is more a slip, that is more a tremor, that is more a sigh, that is more a losing context on a thought, that is more a forgetting of thought, and...
The questions I had, so many and so fierce and bright, so important and worthy...
These questions, made of words, unable to contain concepts, themselves unable to define ideas.
Dissolving, breathing into mist, condensing into droplets that evaporate even as they are noticed...
And are gone.

I am inside a rock.
I am the crystalline structure that itself is part of a mountain.
This mountain, itself, a part of my planet. And this planet is me.
And I am part of my solar system that is itself part of my galaxy, that is part of all my galaxies beyond number or knowing.

All this I am. And I am more. All of me is contained within my matrix of awareness, my perfect blackness that gives everything context. This blackness contains, while at the same time being contained, within itself and of itself.

The Cosmic Microwave Background: pulsing with the softest of sighs, hissing benevolently in the microwave band, broadcasting the millimeter rhythm of all existence. For ever and ever and ever.

I smile, amused, at the loss of my questions, which had seemed so very important, just moments ago. I had so much wanted to know their answers. Yet becoming the mystery, itself, becomes the mystery. And the mystery knows no answers. And the mystery asks no questions, either.

I am dead, I know. And now I do not know myself. Nothing remains of what I was before.
It relieves me to be witnessing all of this, aware that I am without a means to witness it.
I am nameless. Without form. Unknown, unheeded, unheard. Yet I know.

I remember what I am, was and will always be:
The Cosmic Microwave Background.