I need a witness to the witness
of what I think and say.
how to escape what I think I mean,
to get to what I originally feel.
my feel doesn't have the voice.
it doesn't work so well
in words towards understanding.
you have to be the feel,
be of the feel,
for it to be more than reality real.
reality is all only audience mentality,
where Machiavellian movement is
as the driver,
justified by mass appeal thusly promoted.
no, I want feel from a deeper place
of within-origin.
I want my collect heart served
with sentient-sentiment.
I want the collective movement
of heart realized,
no media mindset as the driver,
no momentous persuasion driven
by bowing to dollars,
no crowd appeal to demonstrate
an advertised cause.
no, I need a witness to what I think,
and then to say,
nope, not the event of that.
more so, I want a witness to my witness,
beyond what right thinks,
but be more of think as feel would think,
to come to words as the way
to come to tears,
to come to speak as way to come to touch,
to come together as shared heart realized,
without the calamities,
without the demonstrations of tragedies,
without the rhetoric of law and order
or government approvals laying weight
in sight.
no, people to people,
as in face to face.
I want the witness to my witness to be
not the default speaker,
but the poignancy of deliverance embodied.
where the sound speaks volumes,
more than the meaning carries the weight.
where we do live through each other
without obvious approval or raised claim.
where what is commonly accepted as heard
is in the volumes of communal silence.
where the witness to my witness
takes me beyond what think has to offer,
to that which pleases my heart
and completes me
as a human amongst humans.
no declaratives, no announcements,
no contingency,
no fallback positions,
no lip-service exchange,
just meaning as heartfelt-melding.
where my witness to my witness,
for the very first time,
feels totally at humanly home . . .
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