declaration and response

something anonymously said to me,

I now essentially paraphrase

and repeat to you.

"it is now,

forever locked away.

my beating heart,

safely, under lock and key.

just a part of me

you will never have or see."

and so in response

yet said, only within me.

if forever locked away,

tells me that you are the keeper

but not that beating heart. 

at its essence,

you gave that up 

to be the guardian their of.

your awareness is now, 

the forever task

to the kept-ness of, 

what use to be your beating heart.

if safe is your surmise, 

as the guardian,

then you, as the protectorate, 

value your heart as an object of worth,

more than the ongoing joy of beating.

yes, it is a part of you

but only as your real-estate. 

ownership is now an endless priority task.

purchase was not my goal.

your guardian of self, 

created a self job,

even though, in spite of your cageyness, 

your songbird still sings.

I am the sky 

and your caged heart can't fly.

but your songbird can 

and wants to . . .

emotional presence (haiku)

never on intake

one's emotional presence

always on outpour 

mind's version of emotion

 

emotionality does not have moods.

mind's recognition and interpretation 

is the formation of the moods, generally.

emotions don't have subject matter either.

they don't even or ever have particulars.

that's all mind-work, 

sprinkled with emotion as flavor.

it's only that emotions interface with the mind

in which this false presentation is generated.

and the mind then views the screening with animation.

it's crazy to say,

but, in the deepest sense, pure emotion is nameless.

it's quantum conscious of its isness within itself.

unnamed, unnamable.

it seeks no exterior enterprise like representation.

yet play is an interactional transitional form 

of emotion in its constancy without effort.

becoming somewhat interactional with mindfulness 

and then its self consciousness.

emotion in its constancy 

has to endure experience 

and its constancy of wear-age.

that arrangement is so tight

that emotion, in its nature state,

is almost unrealizable without mind intervention.

imagine a feel state which is constantly radiant

but without the mind's interpretation of radiant.

I know, how is that done?

that's how deep we are in with the mind's usage of feel.

even if you went there,

you would want mindfulness to get a take or a glimpse

or at least an experience which returns with verbiage.

imagine if the essence of emotion was in tune 

with the rest of the frequency universe.

but we, we humans, are in mindful code.

we're not vibratory aware in a sensory way.

we don't actually become much of whatever that is.

but we surely can spectate on a lot of it.

for whatever we name as an it,

we can focus on that and take account.

but emotion, at the deepest level,

is not working for the mind.

the mind is interpretively working with the feel,

but it's all in mind rhetoric and account.

surely we get the energy of emotion

but kindly in interpreted means and ways.

emotion maybe be more primal

than the version of mind usage we have now.

we have mind wardrobe and wear-age and account,

but pure emotion has nothing to do with that.

we are wall to wall mental equivalency

when it comes to emotional source and essence.

it's hardly believable.

that you and I live with a sage.

and yet we amble along like buddies on a road trip.

and every place we think we want to go

in the course of our bucket list of life,

the sage has been there, done that,

demystified it all, before thought got a hint.

and emotion is a pure state,

we don't have a possible perception of that.

if emotion didn't come into the thought world,

we'd be seriously clueless and selfishly vain.

let's just say, for this moment in time,

that emotion is the lubricant

and mind still thinks of itself 

as the machine . . .

emotion at core

essential emotional vibratory presence 

is never on the intake. 

it is always radiantly

on the ever so subtle out pour.

mind has attempted to tame it,

to make it work for the mind,

to support and enforce mental prerogatives.

mind even wants to speak for feelings,

to essentially speak for emotions 

of course, in mental ways,

to make emotions be the work of the mind

by having emotional support for mental reactions,

for emotions to take position of enforceable judgment,

to have positions of like and not like, available, 

in support of what mental say might come.

mind wants emotions to see what mind sees as true,

to believe in mind's ability to sense and tell.

mind does not experience emotion

but only the feelings that mind interpretively generates,

that is all.

mind wants emotions held in check,

to be use for mind usage, primarily,

or at least in terms of mind's interpretation there of.

emotion wants none of it.

emotion wants clear passage,

from person to person,

from being to being,

from heart to heart.

mind has a very different model for living,

as a self in guardianship, at best.

emotion has a wider scope and a deeper yearn.

emotion is in the collective

yet only pin-holes of that sight

available as a person on deliverance.

emotion, in its pure state,

is a constant broadcast 

of the cumulative and the unified.

deeply so, 

self, pridefully ignores that.

emotional is vibratory in its essence,

while mindfulness holds to cognitive as representational.

feelings are mentals,

that have been scented with emotional presence.

moods even effort into wardrobe for appearances.

but mind is directing that show,

hazzardly so or otherwise.

we are so destined for emotional accord

but dally every step of the way.

in all honesty,

emotion has no intake experience.

emotion, in its essential state,

is vibratory radiance constantly out-pouring.

yet we feature the intake as consummate experience.

imagine what sensory would provide

if it was accustom to emotional outpour 

as its primary task 

as an experience provider . . .

out from the victimhood of change

change will not get us, 

for where we want to go.

change is plainly substitutional,

just one for another.

true change is still something as novelty,

but then again rendered, 

by the same means as before.

we can be the capture of change

and not ever address its framework more deeply.

it's not the it of it as perceived,

but more so, our perception as method itself 

that we use.

change is round and round circularity.

experience is grandly prepared for that.

what is wanted is transcendence,

as some witness of the mind-work as its done,

an awareness beyond what thought provides

from sensory input for conclusions that we make,

the true need is for

a way of comprehension from us, 

as incredible intangibles

that is beyond thought's conclusions as basis,

a perspective that is more holographic,

more widescreen awareness from deeper within,

a new source-point of self origin,

beyond personal and personality account,

a deeper motherboard of being

then the appetites from our current reality text,

a massive shift in orientation for self sourcing,

deeper than you are your body and your thoughts.

not that they don't represent,

but more insight of origin 

from beyond our narrative as consuming.

some might say, looking back at this

and call it transformation. 

but experience is not the measure of this worth.

what is needed is a transcendence. 

where by no comparative truth actually applies.

it's a whole new world of presence and awareness.

where there is more collective musicality 

to life awareness,

nuances become profoundly evident,

emotion is more pronounced and relevant, 

all of sensory is more fluid on the intake,

one feels less audience perspective in usage,

what would be called information or stimulus

is now coming from many more levels 

and more diverse directions presenting.

focus takes in the motion of being with prominence.

wide-scope gradually happens more often.

all the senses serenade in the offering.

the collective from the emotional has embodiment.

common mind is tending toward telepathic.

thought follows more and leads less.

kinship feels connectedness before mental identification. 

all action taken has a quality of blessedness to it.

it is the augment of a transcendent consciousness.

reality is vibrationally upgraded ongoing.

incentives are more people to people connecting.

planetary concerns become more relevant. 

highs and lows loose their frequency strength.

the now is more approachable with free spirit.

change is really just a prop show,

and reality, in that light, is only audience participatory

to attend to that which has become habitual.

transcend becomes the creative 

that lives as a daily process unfolding,

in all manner of feel and think.

transcend ranges beyond conclusion's self-vigil.

transcendence, as if ascendency, 

is then a way of livingness,

as the mind becomes 

adherent in the ever process . . .

I am the intimacy

I am the intimacy, 

that escorts between each raindrop down,

that lives the breath life 

between all leaves on each tree,

that sits as the confessional

of all substance holding rigid as firm.

I am the intimacy,

in the petticoat dance of the skirts of clouds,

in the ox-drawn shadows 

that that follow the shadow-furrows 

laid down by the sun

and the constant reminder to blink

without the need of mental distraction.

I am the intimacy, 

that cleans up between each thought,

that gives coloration to each feel as it comes,

that allows for cognition to wonder off 

into dimensions beyond comprehension.

I am the intimacy,

that rhythms in heart beats,

that presents closeness, 

that defies the logic of physical stance,

that leaves each second of time

with an opportunity to newly embrace.

I am the intimacy,

that wells and compels,

that romances all movement

and that experience can't really hide . . .

experience and me

in one of the more intimate moments of the day,

I very quietly said to myself.

"experience, I think you're over rated."

you pride yourself on animation.

you'd use language to support your every cause.

you get understand to agree with you.

you pitch narratives all the time.

it's either quandary or inquiry, 

without hesitation.

you actually believe I am serviceable,

like we're best of friends,

and that I have agreed 

to live through your techniques of delivery.

I get your frame of focus and direction,

somehow mystified and perplex

at your delivery style.

sometimes there is an incessancy to your manner.

sometimes you pitch touchy-feely, 

like for real.

what you lack in depth,

you can't go out there and get.

you ride the senses as if they work for you.

no wonder they would love to take drugs,

just to mess with you every now and then.

hell, they would go with any kind of false stimulant,

just to get you to back off with your pertinence.

you relevance for granted.

I want a lighthouse 

without experience as an ocean surface gathering.

I want a wind 

that has no impact on the sensory.

give me eventual meaning 

that has no verbiage.

I want aliveness

but not from an audience perspective.

I want it coming out of me possessed,

but not experientially evident.

give me some other frequencies

that you can't preoccupy yourself with.

experience, you are like the big top

as a tented existence with sense all over it.

no, I want authenticity 

before experience proof reads,

before any of those framing techniques you use.

I am suspect about your version of aliveness.

I want an isness

that doesn't cater to your methods of engagement.

you make into a character of my own belief

and then boldly keep stuffing me

with more of the same.

experience, you are way over rated

why don't you get a real job?

oh, that's already your fall-back status claim.

experience, could you at least be

more of the inside out 

rather than the constancy 

of the outside in? . . .

beyond the mundane

you came at me,

like a dump-truck unloading

a pile of unidentifiables, 

presented as words.

where in the yard of my mind

did you place this?

maybe it wasn't the stuff of itself

that I could eventually identify later,

but certainly I could focus on the delivery.

this all came from somewhere,

as somewhere else.

I really didn't have that yard-space in mind,

especially for something like this,

both unnamed and surely unclaimed by me.

now my mind-yard is occupied,

and I can't call it clutter, yet.

maybe I did order this and forgot.

no, I can't make a connection that passes.

is this delivery to the right location?

am I the address you intended?

I have the words of consternation.

they are all standing around,

softly talking amongst themselves.

maybe a longer inner dialogue 

will sort this all out.

this is going to take some logic-plaining

to figure how to be at the affect of this ongoing.

do I ignore its presence

and proceed as if?

do I proceed with questions

as if I am not mired into miff-dom?

okay, once again,

am I at the mercy of a conversational oversight?

I have a lump in the throat of my mind

as if forgetful has come to presently fail me.

I don't want to have emotional input about this.

but the topic is now far and wide

across the mind-scape of the moment.

I can pretend to myself

that this is all invisible.

and we can proceed 

as if shared-intendedness rules,

and we're still doing that conversational dance.

and I get that you're joking.

and we do this all the time,

just to make our lives more interesting

to each other.

really? are we doing that?

is this just another practical joke

that we endearingly play back and forth?

cause I can then take this to mean,

that it's time for me to creatively begin

the hunt for the return coming your way.

of course, once I have fully ingested 

the impact of all that you have unidentifiably said.

okay, let's just go with that.

I 'm calmer now

and my scheming and planning will come.

you just wait.

when you least expect it,

I will say something so equally outrageous

to you

and you then can wiggle and squirm.

but know, in your hearts of hearts,

that's how we love each other

beyond being in the mundane . . .