How can I fix something that was never broken

How can I fix it if it was never broken?

You search for meaning—
and call it a lack.
You try to fix—
and call yourself broken.
You keep walking, striving—
as if arrival were somewhere else.
You keep searching—
as if arrival were somewhere else.

But deep within,

There is something untouched—
unbreakable,
self-sufficient,
eternal arrival,
a quiet, radical presence
that does not move,
yet holds all movement.

Let these small searches,
these passing problems,
not disturb that stillness.

Life will rise and fall—
as it must.

So fail—beautifully.
Break—beautifully.
Be lost—beautifully.

Let things pass
without the urge to fix,
to fill,
to replace,
to improve.

A feeling comes—
burns—
and fades.

They last but moments.

What lingers
is the thought that follows,
the grasping that sustains it.

Do not weave stories

around fleeting storms.  

The first pain arrives uninvited—
The second is chosen,
self-inflicted second dart - Buddha says. 

So let it be.
Let it pass.

And rest—
not in becoming, not in striving
But in what already is.

Not in seeker, but in observer.