longingly belonging

what if belonging was all output? 

had nothing to do with intake?

if belonging was made up of caring,

offering, empathy, and feeling concern?

if belonging had nothing to do with

owning, narrative, self defined

projection or acclaim?

but had everything to do with

that which comes from

and then passes through,

that which compassionately aligns,

that which creatively perceives,

that which lives in a willingness,

where belonging has no antithetical knowns,

where confluence exists 

beyond hypothetical,

where awareness is the fluidity of stature,

where feel lays out the daily terrain,

where life appears 

as the soundless music 

of inner-dance happening,

where all of language tonally serenades,

where belong is the philosophy 

of connectivity

and being is light on its feet

and identity is all moving parts, synchronistic 

and all of monies were 

concurrencies exchanged

all details, ornamentation,

all, channeled, 

belonging, 

before thought as identity, 

became the sabotage . . .