thought's content is stone * 8/8/13

Oppressive cobblestones of thought

before my mind, in passing.   

Mindfulness, crawling forward,    

laboring stone after stone,    

upon handling's hands and knees

of attention’s call.    

This sameness of the grip

everywhere there is contact   

is eventually only callousness meeting stone.    

My journey is broken down    

with every mind appendage’s touch.   

This is unfulfilling thoughtfulness.

I experience all of stone's content

of barrenness at a crawl.

Yet, without handling's expectations

and preoccupations, stone upon stone

questions me:

From where within you

does your grip express?    

Why do you have stone represent you?    

Each stone relates to me

how stone knows of me by grip signature.   

Asks me, where in stone do I think inspiration

will make a response.    

Asks me, who of stone

will reflect for me,

from a deeper source within me. 

From where in stone, could I hear such things

said to me in this kind of dialogue?    

If I forgive repetition's stone face,

I come upon all of my life

as a backdrop rock quarry,

exposed as these dialogues

having always been in process,   

yet I only came to claim, as mind of stone.    

I have identified with stone as fact,

as measures of life,    

operationalized by stone action    

contextualized by stone history.    

I have fashioned my mind

out of some severe stone acuity.    

I became a broker of stone sense.    

This stone is by thought, yet dialogues inside me.    

Voices that do not say it with articulated meaning.    

Voices that do not provide me with accessible words.    

Deliveries come without expectancy    

yet undisclosed in meaning's presence.    

Dialogues I have dismissed

beneath understanding's directedness,                                                                             

as familiarity's hardenness proceeded,    

before that cobblestone effect,

now amnesia-like, away from definitives' creep

yet reflections that an aliveness their stone embrace.    

There is a place inside me

where stones have gathered

and dialogues abound now as a roar overheard.    

I allow myself an eavesdropped position

and candid internal response abound,    

offering a journey's worth of cobblestones

as gratefulness.   

Where stone has become my effort's amplitude

and dialogue effortlessly, their say.    

Now is where I take leave

from stones' crawl, broken open 

to enter into this dialogue's play . . .