all destinations are an illusion, a pretend.
an endpoint is a human imaginary.
it is an example of mind-script
with conclusions representing punctuation.
life is endless, boundless, buoyant travel,
sinuous and sometimes circumventive without end.
purpose is a form of modality props.
the end, supposed death, is just transitional.
movement is, for us as humans,
dependent upon frame and mindset.
vast exists but we pinhole perceive.
breath is an ongoing journey
but we hardly make it environmentally locational.
there is a constant stream of mind-fill
and we don’t have that as ‘A’ to ‘B’.
we are significant Tai Chi
without the claim of structured movement intended.
we are constant dance, dependent upon scale.
we are forever in the edit mode
even though the movie is still in the making.
somehow destinations are rungs on a ladder,
pylons on a course,
the props of signage impending,
pronouncements heeded,
an agreement of frames intended,
yet frame-shift is all that happened.
maybe all movement is just play-full
and we declared a sovereign dignified
steadfast hold-still meaning as assignment.
maybe destination is like a nervous tic,
an uncontrollable habit of force,
a collusion forged into usage.
start-lines and endpoints are just laughables.
we need to just delightfully wink
and get on with this imaginary paradigm.
ready? ready when you are.
let’s begin again . . .
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