When you come into
time,
you have a means of
self, identified.
Not a true self but
a reflective one,
reflecting.
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
. . .
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