A wanderer once asked the Buddha:
“When a fire goes out, where does it go?
East? West? North? South?”
The Buddha said:
“When there is nothing left to feed the flame, there is nothing left to burn. To ask where it went is the wrong question.”
Beside the extinguished fire, the room slowly comes alive. A faint movement of air. The sound of a body shifting its weight. The smell of lotus blossoms. A moonlit sky shines through the window.
This is not escape.
This is what remains.