From this illusion
of temporality,
Karma back-intentions
whatever my focus.
Ongoing, all of experience
seems to blossom before
self-consciousness abides.
Reciprocity feeds my senses.
Objectification, as a paradox,
binds me to untimely accounts.
Value extends me
and extracts from me.
Care beckons me to respond.
Pain is the punctuation
in my pronouncement of logic.
Sorrows are conclusions
that sustain in me.
Grief is a false god
of rationalization.
All stages of identification
are my wardrobe
for projections of this moment.
Fever and fervor show me
true colors I otherwise
do not see.
Calm urges me
to give handouts
of peace to others.
Hunger gives me
emphasis to seek.
Happy is a reflection
without summary
sharing soul.
Confrontation is my method
of tumultuous embrace.
Responsibility is risk
made real ongoing.
Death is a fulcrum
finally realized.
Choice is a jester
posing as my ego.
Being has no boundaries.
What lives is what I sense
as history in passing.
What dreams me,
lives within and beyond.
Knowing is a midwife
birthing me
as her form
of personal service
made worthy.
Yet, truth has no form
and does not pose.
My solemn vow
is consciousness
as gratitude,
as we are all intended
in oneness
to live this vow
alive…
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