All the weave of conclusions
that we have made in our lives,
make up the landscape we walk upon.
We get traction to carry on in the same vain
in that light for this moment.
It only offers us throw back options.
For the myriad of first impressions that keep coming
keep our recognition salivating in the process.
Eventually, it all intimately becomes about the chew.
Not what it is or how it tastes
but how we experientially masticate
in the handling of it.
It is about what we bring
to instigate the digestive process
as if experience is the eternal meal.
We have become palate preoccupied
when the real game is absorption.
Energy to energy, light to light,
consciousness goes on without an itinerary
yet we claim menu as a morality,
order up as our entitled passage,
from eventual superstar meals
into the diet-deity of self preoccupied.
Each conclusion is a new brick
on the long road of these life’s passage.
No transformation comes from the imprint of knowledge.
To surrender from knowing into be
is a destiny without story,
forever to remain untold
as all meals are metaphorical in nature.
Although we conjure a circumstance of otherwise,
we are all breatharians
of the one breath by a diversity of inhales . . .