beyond my quench 8/7/18

as long as the guarded treasure of mindfulness 

is self-consciousness,

cognitive perspective seems like the ultimate tool 

of perpetual usage.

meaning seems to hold our hand 

as if there is an implied dialogue 

between sensory input, cognition of such 

and the eventual production of meaning. 

and, of course the bottom line nature 

of that dialogue 

is conclusions that we seem to make 

about everything, philosophically, 

existentially, practically, 

and emotionally. 

not realizing 

that there are fundamental assumptions 

behind the nature of those conclusions 

that will profoundly affect the end result 

as if it is a self-reflective dialogue 

about the circumstance of the concept of self. 

therefore suffering seems as resultant 

as this process is capable of producing 

since all conclusions, although somewhat unrevealed

have as the end goal, 

the original promise 

of insulation, isolation and separation 

as their presumptive means of determination. 

observation banks on it. 

we identify by it. 

we even function, as if we are an it 

amongst a universe of its. 

we serenade our aloneness by it 

as a premise that goes unsaid 

but implied behind, before, beyond 

and about anything that comes to our mind. 

we become anesthetized by relative worth 

as the pretend of comparative truth, 

self-implied. 

therefore, the essence of suffering 

is the method of isolation 

or singularity of being 

as one’s self-conscious means. 

and within the implied, as given separateness, 

we can cope by presenting ourselves concepts 

like compassion, concern and care 

which safely protect the hidden agenda 

of still separate from everything 

and everybody else 

that we can objectively identify. 

this is more of the worldly version 

of the logical, thus and such 

that we can promote 

without ever fully and deeply investigating 

the thought process itself

and as by the production of the original think

or the syntactical nature of its process. 

so if my version of love 

is always attentive to a ‘you’ 

that although separate from ‘me’,

I truly relate too in superior loving ways 

then I have yearned and sought and longed 

but my love is still riddled 

with the richness of separate from 

but ever so in the pursuit 

of a oneness 

that escapes my emersion 

as if beyond my quench

but not my capacity or calling

to paradoxically self-insularly seek . . .