we have the puzzle parts
of bodies to work with.
we have leaded pencils
for spillage from our mouths.
over the electronic airwaves.
we have menus of people
to choose from as friends.
we have scripts
of appropriate projective say-lines.
we have abundance
as next moments' operatives.
we have themes for storylines
for next chapters coming,
but we only have
as have is entertainment's goal.
how did we audience ourselves
out of essential existence?
I bleed for intimacy of the real kind,
but use bandaids of denial
for when real is cutting.
I attempt to breath
what others breath,
but don't really get the energetics
of connection from it.
I exhibit similar behaviors as others,
relax and sojourn as if a participant
in a species of delight,
but really mimic as flattery
does not lighten my soul.
we all speak of liberty
as if right down the road,
but I want connection
as the bonding of beings.
I want the great light
that the collective produces,
the maze of hear-say gets boring
to chase after.
I know of myself,
as not a wick-less candle of being.
the flotilla of harmony
is afraid of drowning at sea.
I am willing to pass as spillage
if it gets me to the light.
just promise me
that you promised yourself,
that this lifetime of layover
is soon to take flight.
I have a gleam in my eye
that outweighs the gravity of this moment.
and sparks will fly,
when spirits rubbing together
are given to ignite.
I'm not asking for sensibility
to reign on my parade.
I want out of wanting.
I place myself in the eye
of this reality storm.
chaos begets calmness
on the grandness of scale.
I want to live that aliveness,
more than knowing can ask for.
where does
that unreasonableness come from?
I am on a journey forward to there.
if you are aware more than I,
please take me under wing,
and fly with me there,
where we make more sense
do amazing things,
beyond expectation's grasp,
in the uprising of spirit as cause.
for we can't come to embrace,
who we intimately already of being,
are . . .
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