what is ponder made of?

 

facile muscles are a Sanskrit of the face

so I have to be the eyes of inwardly anxious

to see facially in a mirror

what it looks like I mean

I was born an orphan 

to the shadows cast from my parents

I found myself to be more interested

in the mechanics of believing

rather than the inner workings of autos,

the necessities of bicycle maintenance

or the demanding motors 

of yard-work attendance

religion seemed to be the roadways

that belief as engines ran upon

for the way that reality works it

I can't afford to live any place

so I wander around inside of myself

some people have tasks as ordination, 

others have burdens as load-bearing worth

some have purpose as posterized futures 

while others have often as fantasized

I ponder as a form of sketch-work

done in the privacy of observation 

as the patience of charcoal 

and the retention of composure as canvass

I have had to ask myself

if wisdom is only lip-service of the ancients 

or the secrets derived from original thought

but then who am I to them from then

that is not the who of them in this now

wonder is a terrible thing 

to waste on answers

journey is made up of direction and passage

effort is melodious all of the way

experience is a ride-along 

as sidekick or wingman

where is an answer they live for

I seem to be placidly impressed 

from far away

first hand comes to me secretly 

from all others

we are a hive mentality 

no one else seems to bother to care about

I can't avoid that sense of togetherness

lots of natural connections 

have no means of display

but pose with each other 

by presence in action

I thought of us, humans, 

as in the same way

we have thought-forms that commingle

we share sighs of delight

we have emotional stare-downs

but also together-feelings that take flight

we are made of Sanskrit of being

but now live in a language way out of date

I have time as some lint in my pockets

of the wear I ware, where-ever I seem to go

so much of focus has surface to it

my sense seem to be content with that

but I thirst from the beyond

as the unknown keeps me

in Sanskrit smiling . . .