I live way

I live way behind 

the soft sell of motion

in the way that the senses all line up,

as if teats of the world

all in a row, 

readied to feed all my senses.

it's called living

but it feels like wonder.

both kinds,

the wonder about 

and the wonder abound.

it's a maze-works that is played

ever-constant

but defeated by familiarity as replay

over and over 

until gaming it is faze-boring

and all my efforts come to lack zeal.

so then I invest in the way behind,

well behind, beneath and beyond.

all my senses got hooked 

on recognition-service and reward.

I have to go to the far edges

of mindfulness to get fresh air that plays 

away from the concert of experience.

not back stage or front row

but far away from the facility 

of the reality formats themselves.

sometimes I can't even have understanding ride shotgun

with its constant need for interruption.

for I just want an other-worldliness of focus.

something in the vibrational-raw,

an immersion that is of itself,

with no potential for conversion

into the religion of sensible comprehension.

where I feel freed up

from the substantiation of beliefs, 

the mentoring of time

and the engagement 

of doing being a person.

once there,

there is all about connectivity.

nothing is singularly named.

motion is not an anomaly 

that needs to be named.

even naming is not practiced.

one leaves enthrallment upon arrival.

if I am restricted to language to say,

think of it as all cells 

of what was called self

are mischief rapture-dancing.

and then the self of identity 

and interest disappears.

and when I come back,

I will tell you. 

this is what oneness feels like . . .