the deeply-diverse collective

where we, all in silence, 

beg for the abstract to be our calling.

where all of whispers 

become the weave 

of surface sensory-preoccupation.

I am always in the army of the anonymous 

yet I am the gusto-trust, 

looking for prayer to ignite me.

then, what if drawnness 

is always the tantalizing whisper 

of the unknown,

if orientation is only then 

my method of fiber,

if my living is the eventual consent 

of my soul,

yet if deliverance is a false assumption 

of a here-to-there world,

if take is a self-presumption 

as a false occupancy

and we assume as a collection of separates,

then maybe I am thread 

that does know the feel of cloth,

yet I have motion as my seventh sense,

as if any location is a demand for journey

of mind, of body or of spirit.

and for me to ask, 

assumes there are elements 

of initiation for this.

where my yelling, "leave me alone", 

is a contradiction 

of a compelling personal stance.

but I come from the joy of play 

as the true innocence of heart.

where the guide of glide is really my prayer, 

said with the eyes of gravity, 

of spirit in mind,

where speed, as well as thought,

are both temporal feels,

but only as egocentric sensory adjectives

to distract my being 

from deep-down oneness, 

where we, all in the manifest, 

beg for silence to bless and compose us,

to complete the mend, 

where fractures display,

to full spectrum anoint us

into the lightness of being

and gives us a sense of array as completion,

where oneness knows of itself,

not by the surround 

but by the deeply-diverse 

collective from within . . .

depression hiding the divine

depression is a manifestation of the deep 

but unrealized honesty.

an honesty, beyond the social context 

of apparent reality's conjecture.

it is a deeper truth 

that cannot be named straightforwardly.

connections to spirit is like this, 

when unrealized.

the rational account for oneself 

does not include access 

to this kind of source.

this energetic truth, lived unconsciously,

appears to cause reality-dysfunctions.

one needs to witness from such a depth

that it includes irrational contexts 

and deep outside of time possibilities 

to see the wholeness of one's being.

we, as a culture of self-consciousness,

do not embrace those kinds of perceptions

or that depth of being to become whole.

therefore this individual, set apart,

is on a journey

to create a world that includes 

the wholeness of themselves, yet unrealized.

all of us are in need, 

in the same way, 

yet not of the same necessity 

as these specific and special few.

destiny, for them, 

calls from a very deep place

to these individuals,

while the rest of us are personally allowed

to meander and wander with ease.

for many, this, as self-dialogue, 

goes on inwardly

but does not address the kind of depth 

that is needed to be brought 

into conscious focus.

and so, we as a culture, 

would rather suggest 

medicate and divert.

but that hidden inner truth, once realized, 

would serves us all, well.

each of us is our own private religion, 

without the necessity of this kind of clarity.

but for some, the calling is strong 

and specifically this deep.

and we would all benefit 

from the revelations

of their deeply sourced blessedness

that they somewhat blindly feel, 

for the space of their inward expansiveness.

but with blunt avoidance of, 

the weight, and the sovereignty,

and the sullenness of vastness.

it can present as a dull vast bleakness.

it can vary from untenable familiarity, 

to feeling amputeed of soul 

and eventually produce 

a logjam of physical symptoms in response, 

and a kind of tinnitus of ongoing emptiness.

there can be a pervading overwhelm 

as an unnamed longing, 

in a vice grip 

of conscious annoying compromise.

spirit comes in strange ways to some.

these beings suffer 

from their lack of in-depth connectedness

to the unrealized spirit 

of who they really are.

they have evolved to a higher state of being

but do not have access 

given the mind-states 

of existence in the surround 

that our reality format offers them.

they could mean well

but suffer for their lack 

of true connectedness

in a conscious way of self presence.

please, be of a presence 

to honor and assist them.

for they offer gateways to our future,

somehow, hidden deeply within them . . .

sparks from spirit

walking the path of the paradox

via mind-stations of the crisscross.

mystified by carrying what carries of itself,

that embodiment of the all,

that is and remains so,

as the whole of the undisclosed.

the what that we are

that is more than this moment's display.

having the heretofore to hurl 

from the present.

ever-risking 

into the next moment's presence

without guarantees or certitude on demand.

letting the all of self at it,

without compromise or legitimacy.

channeling the ever-pour of being

beyond the righteous rules 

of just projecting.

veiled essence in a striptease, 

ever more deeply showing

intoxication in and of its own euphoria.

flowing as the present, streaming.

soul that marionettes the personage 

into animation.

we all have a want 

for that liquid fire in scintillation.

paradox is the mind-start 

of the kindling needed.

yearning for the burn into existence.

sparks from spirit, 

sent to be the blaze,

is every moment's offering option . . .

the worlds of the how and the why

if you had to choose

between the how in the world 

or the why in the world

our cultural training 

selects why.

even from an early age, 

the training has begun.

but how requires

more inner mind-work to realize of itself.

why doesn't provide for those skills.

it's just short attention-span in answers,

where how demands 

comprehension's efforts,

yet both are ways of knowing about one self.

one is compliance, 

stored as memory as account,

while the other

gives a way towards 

brain-working knowledge.

'why' eventually works its way into blame,

where comprehension 

becomes a judgment status.

'how' has the makings of a life path 

into a career.

why gives you knowledge

but how give you understanding.

comprehension is not a filing system,

for it has a complexity 

that lends itself 

towards the hows of the universe 

and not so much the whys

as the excuses for cause.

how, in its finest efforts,

produces brain style of entry 

while why becomes biblical in nature.

if you had to go to school

and you had the choice of a 'how' school

or a 'why' school to attend

for all of your educational livelihood.

imagine the differences in the world 

we would have

from the graduating classes 

from the 'how'-school 

going forward

and from the graduating classes 

of the 'why'-school.

one is the world 

comprehensively going forward

while the other 

is the world attending 

to the account, 

the justification 

and the blame . . .

feelings

 

feelings, once felt, 

fill the audience of self.

even cells appreciate the passages.

the amphitheater of being is a buzz.

hum is existence in a rich inner way.

the buoyancy of emotions 

lightens the passage.

the say has tonal environment implications.

meaning becomes made of wearables 

and understand has lens 

to see the world differently.

language spoken has the capacity 

to provide embrace.

eyes wide open have more depth to the sight.

touch seems closer at hand to everything.

wellness expresses as itself embodied. 

the lighthouse of being 

goes everywhere

and yet,

we were all lead to constantly conclude,

that mind-dominance 

was the way to naturally live . . .

sensory as existence

 

the glaring flaws of sensory existence

are as billboards of recognition, 

in flash-flood awareness.

we are the kayak of self, 

paddling with the tongue of the mind,

riding the currents of input,

as tactiles, visuals and audibles rumble by.

recognition keeps to the buoyancy-task.

the balance of being 

avoids the sinking down.

skill-sets of awareness 

are handling the sensate rush,

getting doused with the hysterical splashes

but avoiding the emotional wipeouts 

or even the issues of immersion

that lead to the deluge of being swamped.

yet we ride, float, paddle along,

use fear as a disposition for journey.

the kayak of self is made of suppositions,

of fibers of belief finely woven,

to keep us afloat in this sensory sea,

to brave the ever rapids,

to settle in for the long journeys,

to be ever appraised of the here-to-there.

camera ready as ever 

new lands are approaching.

dock for sleep 

but afloat for every day's campaign. 

sensory keeps the self sense adrift.

portage is a resulting way of thought.

personality is all about rowing style,

from pull, pole or sweep.

sensory is just surface entry interaction.

fear of downing is the only religion

and of avoiding the wake resulting

from the ship of fools in passing.

all information is precipitous in nature.

eventually paddling becomes the norm

yet every landing leads me 

to long for more self-afloat.

sensory is an addiction

that self seems made of and for.

I want the mystery of water

to tell me the truth,

but not in sensory ways 

or by metaphorical means.

make evaporation speak to me directly.

have rain tell me why it cries.

I want the songbook for water.

and why fear makes me 

always want to float.

otherwise, sensory is telling me 

half-truths or outright lies . . .

doors to calmness

how does entitled work its magic?

how does presumption 

come to wear a crown?

who fills the air with adoration?

what makes others appear as clowns?

what mindset dominates the projection?

what middle ground is open for solicitation?

what self has attributes that others admire?

what made stage-presence 

a relevant consideration?

is there a gene for audience mentality?

why are dressing rooms so try-on crowded?

who teaches about rude awakenings?

is reality an endless tinnitus 

of this as existence?

so why have a mind-fill 

of so many questions?

are all doors to calmness 

plastered in this way?