self, is always, overdressed as interacting.
there is a self,
before the murmur of memory,
before the starch of awareness returns with feedback,
before separateness is a correction to the optics of being.
there is the emanation that demonstrates as the self,
as the emergence of essence into that body of matter,
which the self preys upon as separate yet exuding.
self, not happy with the walls,
always wanting more windows,
has its own invisible graffiti for self as amusement.
some selves are perk, some curse,
some out of darkness,
some made of rise, others of mirror,
while others of languid, or long views, or listless.
find me a self
that washes me away,
that takes my being beyond its composition.
a self that makes me admit to my vastness through others,
a self that dissolves into the hearts of others,
that demystifies the self as stance, separate, or deity.
I am only a pop-up self
when self-consciousness appears,
like a handshake, a first kiss, or matching verbal tones.
to my senses, it’s like first meeting
but to my spirit, it’s like full circle round.
spiraling, we dance as one respective
to flash flood past recognition’s rituals,
not entertaining each others’ brains,
watching a self be done.
where there is the presence,
the projection and the priorities,
the self psychology is teeming in action.
I am living in the spaces between
the cards you are dealing yourself.
I grow your growth to become me,
to know us beyond any self sense,
to be spirit without self containment.
but no one can say that to their own self . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment