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Friday, April 27, 2018

beyond the beyond 4/27/18


existence is not the compliment 
paid by experience.
more experience is the burden of proof.
none of which further applies.
why is my mind dressed up this way?
maybe I falsely asked as a child
please, tell me a story.
and so the ruse was on.
listen up became parental.
I felt obliged.
it made my feelings into an obligation,
a burden to be within reach by others.
they stubbornly demanded sense out of me
but their sense became so much superficial. 
I lived in a denial of self to belong.
for me, life is just a touching-down,
a quaint period of physical occupancy.
language is but a lather.
where I am from we have no speak.
there is no separation that is in need of say.
why put oneself through it at all
so that declaration of independence is to serve what,
a sense of self in isolation searching?
existence is but a metaphorical out-breath pause.
deep is only breaths in as unending,
yet breath, in the lower case, looks like life.
we are all spillage, 
in a journey, 
back to source.
essence never dies, 
no matter of it’s apparent composition.
belief is just an outpost.
love is but a currency.
oneness has no needs for answers . . .

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