Beckoned by what can’t be so.
I can’t straightforwardly tell you.
I can’t cover my mouth
and tell you with just my eyes.
I can’t write it down
in scribbled notes passed your way.
I can’t leave it
as blood smeared script
on the daily dry wall
where you stare into space.
I can’t live a life
of pure dedication
to this cause
for you to admire.
Nothing of it would come across
as something you would recognize.
It doesn’t easily translate
from something else that it is.
You can’t overhear it
being said to another.
There is nothing personal
intended by its vacancy from you.
And it is not just you, for sure.
It is all of us.
We are all beckoned
by what can’t be so.
We can’t think it clearly.
We can’t compare notes
to somehow collectively identify.
But we are all part of it
and at worst, it is haunting us.
At present, it is more inviting
but not wholly admitted to
or consciously our wanton claim.
But it is coming
or rather we are going to it.
Not that it is an “it”.
It is more than just disrobing
from our absence from it
and therefore becoming more of it.
But I cannot say what it is.
Language takes me away from it.
Thoughts about it, are desperate
but also distant from it.
In fact, there is no it!
There is no entry, by a claim of it.
It cannot be possessed
by ownership or the like.
We actually have to give up on it,
well the “it-ness” of it.
For there is no separation possible.
It can’t be quantified like that.
It is quantum,
and we are it, but unrealized,
and without means of passage
without a shift of consciousness.
All of our referentials,
all of our recognition means,
only fight against it.
We actually fight with
and within ourselves
not to get it but to be it,
to be of it.
We want to not be stayed
by self-conscious means,
but to diversely channel
this oneness
towards a confluence of being,
towards a conscious diversity
that infers by expression
a oneness
as our soulful conscious means,
to be beckoned
by what can’t be so . . .
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