tool of erosion

using the tool of erosion,

it's a time-lapse skill.

with usage is,

as if attention paid.

comparisons at intervals,

hands on,

with eyes and maybe some physical rigor implied.

an aptitude for reminiscence in use.

endearment for a sense of usage,

that is, putting referencing into a format,

respectfully called a tool.

for it's a working relationship endowed.

potentially by a person, 

who could have been the family historian,

has skills at remembrance, 

as if perspective is its own coloration.

and then there is, as described,

the erosion itself.

something objectified as a standalone, 

given respect for its assistance.

a perception called out,

in the form of, 

what it, in an original sense was,

to what it, has apparently become,

and the comparative that now verbally exists,

as its observed account.

some people have it as a verbal skill,

others as a mindset, 

kept for only inner dialogue usage.

yes, age is a contributor to usage status.

but the real claim 

is not in the eyes of the beholder,

but supposedly in the object regarded,

be that a habit or a person's behavior

or a real world type of reference.

erosion is not taken to mean aging.

it is a lessening of its talent as value.

wether it was hardness of substance,

flexibility in usage,

a somehow relational appreciation,

or a lessening of benefit from.

appraisal has a timeline of diminishment. 

whatever it was, for then,

by those of then-standards,

it is now a less-than.

not that it transformed into something else

or was always in transition,

but it was epitomized for its then existence,

as otherwise perceived. 

and now, 

by the nature of a now assessment,

it is viewed in an evaluative cast, 

for a life future of a less-than.

a fixative frame is bystander applied.

memory becoming a coronation process.

judgment carries the casket of its efforts forward.

for all of us to believe

that we all have sweet memories 

of the past, 

using the tool of erosion

as a framing style,

to enhance our version

of self and passage, 

as rendered by the story we tell,

with time as an active participant 

in its referential passing . . .

the do and the be

meaningful truth is a conscious attempt at grounding.

energetic truth is the livingness of consciousness,

beyond and behind any attempts at understanding.

so many layers added to attention's efforts,

for a truth to surface and be evidential,

yet stay constant in follow up and follow through,

as if a task of self-caring awareness is in order.

otherwise there is this vacant buoyancy of self,

that prods along, body vaguely reporting but intact. 

mind without any conclusions reigning down,

just in receivership of what the senses are offering,

as a familiar state of the ongoing, 

needing only sensory hits, 

as touchstones now and then.

and then unexpectedly,

recognition gets a grip, 

a forthcoming to hone in on

or a flashback bent on a upsurge of memory.

this as almost as a road sign in the mind track, 

set up as awareness testing one's participation

in the moment as passing as a bed check,

yet the day's conveyer belt is in motion as oncoming

and the load of remembers and to do's appears.

one could be a dock worker of the self, 

to handle how next moments are to fill

with the meaningful distractions of daily life in need.

yes, sure, groundedness is an essential happening. 

a deeper witness uses all of this as backdrop,

for a clearing of the philosophical or psychological throat

and a perking of the inner ear for self dialogue to say.

at this point, a layering occurs,

the carry-on continues.

maybe a slight pause in physical animation might happen,

just for focusing purposes.

and this inner voice says something, 

as a bright spot of high contrast, 

as a remark beyond what a mirror could hope to present,

or as a say, from the wide sweep of being.

not a summary but a passing statement,

that redirects the whole of the self composition.

a source spot is consciously identified.

something of self-sacred carriage is acknowledged. 

more then a reason for,

more than an accolade reminder,

maybe a wellspring of self is in the first order.

spirit is realized as the driver,

yet not overly demonstrated but definitely present.

physical gravity takes a step back as an influencer.

the surround becomes more of a theater. 

the being has an expanding presence.

all of the labor has a light-work to it.

whatever, as mind-compelling is softer.

whatever the tedium 

has softer surface and rounded edges,

instead of the burden of living.

there is the carriage of a sacred truth unrevealed,

yet present without further explanation needed.

one is the bearer of a richness, 

that goes on without fanfare or needed follow through,

just inner beaming with possible outer glow.

even one's voice 

is hurled from a slightly different source,

not by topic identified, 

but by tone in deliverance.

all these measures of the self are now muted down.

the self, in carriage, comes from a deeper space within.

not saying it is wholly identified, 

but in residence, clearly in bloom.

consciousness has its seasons and its timeliness.

all out days are filled with this ebb and flow,

in self witness.

not so evident,

as if to gain or advantage, 

but ever so the balance between ,

the outer world onslaught

and the inner world ongoing.

there is the border-town of self awareness.

and we all hang there as our cultural heritage.

yakking to the outer, in incentives or responses.

and listening to the inner in vacancy or inner dialogue.

generating the energy, as if motivation

to carry one in both,

but longing for the inner 

to be made evident and declared. 

how hard to carry a bucket full of brilliant light 

on a reality trail of encumbrances,

and not have spillage gone astray. 

and tiresome suggest brakes and shutdowns, 

as acceptable of passing through the day.

what skills of self awareness define this?

that meaningful truth 

is a conscious attempt at grounding,

while energetic truth 

is the livingness of consciousness . . .

the combust of entry

is there a litany of concerns,

within the lifespan of a care?

when the wingspan isn't put into an effort,

is that like how

lucidity is speechless to respond,

by answering?

there is rush

and then, 

the observance of rush.

which one are we?

there is acknowledgment,

as anything, 

duly noted in passing.

but also,

there is attachment to detachment.

I could have an army of feelings.

but with these wings, 

the breeze, 

my sense of direction,

it all adds up.

if I heard a stampede, 

I could run towards it 

or away from it.

so far I have avoided playing, 

this tag of ambivalence.

concerns themselves 

seem to only come 

out of fresh hatched issues.

and the tinder of issues, 

is easily flammable.

the bakery guy comes by 

with a tray of topics.

asked me to take a role. 

he says, they're free.

well, sure I have options.

I could be a pyre-man or a firemen.

I could be a 9-11

or a media reporter,

as a flock of clichés, 

migrating towards a summary.

do I need a backstory of emotional trauma,

to get my ass in gear and care?

not care, 

from a witness protection program,

but an all out piece of me, 

on the chessboard as a participant.

am I to be here for judgment?

for moral propagandizing?

for balancing the teeter-totter 

of public persuasion?

no, I don't get issues, 

as reasons for answer.

I want to get to the source of the real cause,

as irrational 

as that may be in concealment.

I want where pain lives to come out. 

it's clear, we can't have transparent lives,

in a narrative, projective world.

even as my own presenter,

I am not sure 

if hurl comes from true source.

self-consciousness is so abusive 

in this regard.

I don't have expressions 

that express from deep enough within.

it has to be spontaneous,

yet intended.

so what triggers 

that depth of honest response?

I have to get out of my own way

so that me, 

gets live air time to start.

I know it's back there 

and deeply ordained.

but the litany of concerns 

is a false wardrobe to be wearing,

yet emotions have surface tension 

as interactional.

I want what touches you

to come from beyond 

who I am to you.

I want, 

where we are that harmonic,

to surface by whatever means.

we don't need 

a shared near death experience,

but something beyond narrative.

a connect,

that does not lead to an account.

just our combust of entry

and then an unending silent note

that sings our soul 

as us . . . 

questioning in a stare-down

is there ever something 

that can be referenced as a thing?

does observation ever provide 

for evolution?

is mindfulness always luggage, 

taken along?

is experience only a reflection 

on method used?

can questioning ever escape 

the dead end of answers?

is livingness insightful 

beyond experience as means?

is all of language reducible 

to mutter-dom expressed?

is languaging 

a false approach to consciousness?

is reality a classic joke style, 

in the telling or the living?

is comprehension 

all as wardrobe?  

is cognitive agreement, 

form of universal bondage?

is isness not reducible 

to comprehensive means?

is time 

the concept of staring, 

into the mirror, 

unrealized?

if enlightenment, 

any reasoning for return? . . .

a fathom of momentous

a presence of purpose, 

without a sense of time.

an impending, 

without a before, 

as introduction.

a now, 

without any surface 

to endear as meeting.

instilled without content,

to measure as aware.

a combust of presence, 

without any essence showing.

enterprise, 

without any undertakings evident.

seamless, 

with substance,

as efforting to impress.

dreamlike, 

in the brilliance 

of sudden blindness.

a wisdom, 

without earning 

from its measure of worth.

heroes and heroines, 

without any evidence or proof.

a liberty, 

without the demeaning notion 

of a context.

to be aware, 

beyond understanding 

as a default status.

to be of belief, 

that does not yield 

to rational constituency.  

just for a fathom of momentous, 

that usurps existence,  

as an un-contextual breath of being, 

but not in any human sense, 

experientially vain . . .

written of spirit

personal evolution is all about 

the initial impact of incidentals.

for money can't buy, 

story can't tell,

and truth can't be self-forwarded.

self evolving is a sneak attack appearance.

surrender is really a deeper self embrace,

as this as resourcefulness, 

is coming from deeper within.

any suggestion of this nature

has to be of a channeled nature,

for one to self realize.

all that is wanted from another

is for them to call you out 

from this deeper self place within.

for you to speak out directly 'to the' and 'from the', 

from the truth of you 

that hadn't been otherwise realized.

for mindfulness is all symbolic

until feelings become deeply realized.

actions are all animations,

until feelings become 

the music, the rhythm, and the movement.

there is want for the mind to read

what feelings write un-contentiously, 

yet mindfully in-comprehensive. 

until the two of them internally consciously meet

in their ascendency,

where the mind is ever the chalkboard

and emotion is ever the chalk.

there, in the longhand,

is the cursory script, 

written of spirit . . .  

if I meta-perspective you

 

if I meta-perspective you, 

could we be more than just friends?

I'm not saying lovers,

not saying past-life intimates either.

could we be of a oneness,

of an evolutionary means 

beyond inhabiting the earth?

a higher means of planetary life to come,

as we be and make that discovery?

if we were obviously telepathic, 

would that make the process easier to pursue?

if we shared the same mind-screen openly,

would we know of life in a deeper way?

if we were mind-mutual 

would opinions be a form of hilarity between us?

would common interest be a drag?

could we actually search for others?

could there be more on the way?

I'm assuming we'd be of common purpose,

in terms of a deeper agenda driving us along.

we'd be somewhat scamming reality, 

for its apparent methods and worth.

somehow I can't feel and be guilty for this.

I'm not interested in win or conquer either.

I just want to promote an elevated sanity of being

and enroll in it as if that means it's possible.

would this make us all closer to the now?

would it be enough to discover 

the shortcomings of life as otherwise lived?

maybe I just want to meta it all

and calm down about having a life

that appears as tangled strands to unwind,

as if order comes 

from one strand of humankind made unknotted.

I don't want a strand-view of existence, 

not even to make a ball of order. 

I want where that fiber comes from,

where that fiber was an outcrop of growth,

where that being of this case was sheared,

where before the shearing,

there was a being with soul.

I want to be where that soul had origin.

I want for that for us all.

so, what if I meta-perspective you?

would you want to come along? . . .