There is no flashlight on view,
no paper bag with one pinhole to see out,
no sight that is not immersion of itself.
There is no defining of space
so that you are instinctually driven
to embrace as a context.
You are in Omni-motion,
the closest thing that you would identify with
the flow of a river-mist of a nervous system
driven by both wind and gravity
There is no feedback loop
because there is no driver position
But there is ever the out-pour
from an inner source unknown.
There is no residence of recognition
to work with.
Space is unboundaried
yet declaring as an unspecified presence.
Everything of thingyness is synchronous,
all in native tongues
as an unhearable tonal chorus forthcoming
but not as an articulation of language.
Everything is so thoroughly in the gravity
that there is no cutting edge of view.
Nothingness amidst the all
is the only audience to view.
And it is hard to believe
that we live in that world
but unaware enough to know it . . .