one before all

I could weep a river into yearning.

I could dress-up my view of the world.

I could catch fallings stars into wisdom.

make rivers give testimony of their trials.

get gravity off of its ass,

now and then

make humans sweep off the clutter 

covering their hearts.

end time as a constant embarrassment, sure. 

make space the friends that never leave us 

in the dark.

but why?

why have care 

or even the inklings of concern?

those would all be shortcuts 

to where we want to go.

getting there has to be the fill of enrichment.

the whittling away of that which doesn't,

not the wear down but the wear through.

to where to?

not the gleam of surface,

nor the worth of the metal involved,

not even the effort for the task at hand,

but more so, that which is, before it does.

even before isness is assigned action,

before self is audience to its mastery,

even before the chisel-work 

of understanding

or the appeal of the next moment 

as seduction.

where?

somewhere within constant

that has lost all its meaningfulness,

some unnamable state beyond stated-ness.

yes, the loss of smallness, 

the emersion of focus without frame,

zeal without contrast,

zest without comparative truth in audience. 

oneness that never lost itself. 

yes, I could proposition circumstance

to drop its act

but then where would we mindfully be

without the freefall of circumstance,

without referential resistance of context,

without the con of separatism abiding?

so where is the Waldo of each of us

if we were mutually present 

in all being of one soul? . . .