If experience often pets
the kitty of enlightenment,
why is it
that it cannot make her purr?
If experience is curbside service,
why is it not also the g-force
of sacred awareness driving?
Often times,
experiences are pamphlets
to be whispered as prayer
but is this perusal
ever self-love, giving permission?
Why is it that
experiential bleacher seats,
no matter how close to the field,
are always a mindset away
from the joy of playing?
If the space between leaves
of the same tree,
are filled with
auric phantom leaf-oneness,
do they experience the song
expressing the essence
of the tree itself?
Is experience itself,
the first mirror
for mankind’s tool-like grasp?
If I go down to the river
to experience the river,
but I brought the river sense
already within me
along in my descent,
what experience have I received
once I realize this to be true?
If everything came to me,
once I released myself
from efforting,
how would I be who I am
without the boundaries
of efforting
surrounding me with
the confinements of confirmation?
I came across a picture
that reminded me of you,
and so I took away
the reminiscent sense of things,
and there you were,
all along, how did that happen?
How is it that I ever went away
from anything,
and why do we always, it seems,
have a forefront of particulars?
When I say something is sacred,
am I inviting,
confirming or anointing?
Where does going take me
and why does it seem like that?
What happens if I aggressively
and assertively,
even demandingly surrender?
And lastly, why is it
I hurt for details
but I long for cause? . . .
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