Every time I find myself
as a traitor to the greater cause,
I have to acknowledge
that I am doing knowing
rather than a prominence
of inner being presence.
Yes, I am in the theatre of void-think
but it has returned as reflective,
languaged, and thought,
and completely surrounded
by a conversant audience mind-set location.
I am besieged by others,
who are likewise and also.
It’s so intense;
I hardly can distinguish
where the inner screen is.
And when it becomes clear,
what I really see in my mind’s eye
is a mirror reflection of us all.
Another media dimension
of the same circumstance reiterated
as topical or as a steadfast ever changing
but ongoing conclusion.
And that this is what is so
and a continuance pronouncing it as such.
Experience comes on to me.
It is and has been an indoctrinating lifetime
of entrainment and occurrence.
I have reduced my entire sensory range
just to handle the onslaught of the obvious
and the dally of the mundane.
It seems that we all have traded mystics
for pointer dogs
and no one is the wiser
as long as we all live in these kennels
of passive agreement.
Sure, knowing gets me on a platform
but it does not guarantee tickets or passage
and then to question as to where!
Hopefully not to the further land of experience!
I get how experience works
and it is not deeply fulfilling.
Experience is get-bys, high and low points,
memories as imprints,
and the engine, it seems, is always running.
I surely do not want the sense of home
to be a state of reinforcable convictions
ever reasserting themselves as proof.
Home is not a concessionary position
or a mind-fill either.
Doing knowing is kind of hobby-esque
but generally enjoyable.
But I have a longing, a yearning,
an all out hunger,
a need for an undisclosed type of quenching,
a sense that seeks not completion but is,
a belonging that is involuntarily a given,
a wholism conduit through me
or I should say through the loss of me.
Knowing is humbled to be in the moment
but passes with an ease
as if fact had a shelf life
and then gone.
Doing knowing is a form of negative Zen.
I keep doing knowing what it isn’t,
on the path to what or the lack of what
truly is . . .