When you come into time,
you have a means of self, identified.
Not a true self but a reflective one,
The means of the universe are
as crumbs before you.
You make this terrain out into a sanity.
You select a smallness and call it home.
You make love be relational
when it is oneness before during and after
your implicit isolation of self identity lets go.
The universe breathes you
but you think it otherwise.
You perceive form and identify with it
as you and your kind
but really the wind is more your kind.
Water in its life cycle
is more your truth of being
but never to realize while in it.
All of mass is only wardrobe.
Laugh and you live to the fullest.
Sneeze and you die
but then live to repeat.
Cry and truth has come through you
but not as ever mindfully understood.
Happy lacks self-consciousness.
Uninterrupted happiness cannot know of itself.
Conclusions are all fragile refuse
we make into mountains for us to climb up
and then climb down.
All of your life is constantly passing
before your eyes
but for the most part,
we don’t have a frame of reference to see it.
Knowledge in the mind is slander to the heart.
All of our lives are the filament lighting
towards the heartfelt as the return . . .