I come from a culture
that cannot rape.
We cannot know of ourselves
in those isolated ways.
We cannot desire from another
what we do not already possess.
We cannot stray so far
as to look back.
Sexuality of thought,
feelings or gesture
only exist as celebrative.
No act of consciousness
can be done in vain.
We are in deference beyond motive.
We cannot deceive
the collective of our self.
We cannot shock one another
with actions.
We are indifferent to results.
We have no philosophy
nor psychology.
We have the livingness
of a subtle physics
as it would appear to understand.
Even though understanding is,
as if to sit in the bleachers
and cheer for outcomes
and positions of judgment
and demonstrative results.
This is as if the world of symbols
would yield authentic representation
of our souls.
No one is gifted with approval
that would steal them from self-love.
We, as individuals,
are not the measure from others.
Unique is not a comparison.
We have no system of justification,
no behavioral alliances
of reinforcement,
no bed checks or quotas.
No one takes to the mind of analysis
to declare a sense of worth.
Nouns are never written in ink
and verbs never stay on the page.
Spoken language
has enormous worth
as intonement.
We are with you and of you
between your words
and before meaning leads to tears
at our sharing from core.
Where the world has suffering,
we have the sweetness of suffering
as a gate,
offering a deeper sense
of spirit as carriage forth.
When one dies,
the collective spirit
is inwardly enhanced.
If joy comes,
it is reflective from within.
Our heroes are
before thought occurs.
We do not have hope
as if it were fresh cut flowers,
promising a bountiful garden
of futures.
Touch redefines our notions of space.
We do not have faith
as if it were a photo i.d.,
promising that life will meet
our expectation and memories
because we are sincere
and caring members
of the human race.
We live in each other
as our wisdom.
Terms like annoyance
and bothersome
do not apply.
Everyone's actions
speak for the whole.
Our love
is before feelings concur.
I cannot hold you
nor you me.
Sacred is the means of breath.
Light is the medium of being.
We have never been
that separate,
even by the displays
of space, mass, or time . . .
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