do I need a context
to appreciate my living?
does the mind rendering
make my life complete?
do I need inner dialogue
to hold my awareness hand?
does sensory have to be my storyteller
for me to be earnestly listening?
do I need reasoning
for a sense of purpose to arise?
does the procession of the day
make me my own discourse?
I'm watching traits of mine
asking who of me hired me?
if I stand outside of time
what sense does living make?
am I the abstract of myself
before certitude claimed me?
if I am drowning in relevance
how can that be so?
who can I be speaking with
that easily comprehends?
if I am the plaintiff
how is this reasoning to work?
I am standing somewhere
with the claim of this perspective.
who is that of me
that is reporting back these terms?
am I negotiating to ask
or for to search for answers?
I get dismissive
as a first response from others,
as if an active imagination
is the symptom evident.
yet I keep asking,
can you see what I see?
and I am asked,
what planet are you on?
and so the dance continues,
supposedly amongst us all.
but the music I hear
seems to be coming from afar.
and I do want to continue
to be the humming along.
I want to be an instrument
of the heart playing,
someplace relevant,
where the symphony gathers,
to play for the show
of living this life,
as if richly so . . .
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