Meditation is the ending of thought. Thought as becoming, arriving, security and pleasure. Thought as ambition and the drive to become the eccentric but loved artist or poet, if even among a small group of admirers. Thought, as the poet long neglected, an obscure and hidden man suddenly discovered, upon the scene now and discovered to be a sage and recognized for his genius. The Ego as defined as a Unit of Meaning. The Ego as The Individual, the Special One, the Arrival on the Great Scene of Knowledge, the Fool upon his worst presentation to The World. The Past is thought in all its guises: meaningful, essential, priceless, timeless etc. Thought as life and death. Thought as those consoling items of Tradition that justify killing: The beginning, the end, the middle. Thought as the past and the present projected into the future. The past is death and disillusionment as is a present based on that past and a future, which is nothing more than the continuation of that futility. Which is nothing more than extraneous expressions of seeming substance evaporating under God’s scrutiny. It all reduces to ashes, to nothing under the Sacred Sun. It all becomes as nothing.