intimacy of awe

caught in the intimacy of awe.

standing there, 

in bare naked mindful.

undressed from cynical and sarcasm's wardrobe.

in my birthday-suit of innocence. 

my senses presenting in wonderment,

captivated without disclaimers,

at a loss for verbal coverage,

blessed with the intake of overwhelm,

witnessing from beyond the onrush of experience.

taken to the outer limits 

of the whisper of time.

what is,

is not happening to me,

but now is me,

as if awe is the living of aliveness.

this is where experience is

for bystanders,

where now doesn't question itself,

but is.

my senses stopped whispering to me

yet holding on to me dearly,

admitting to their foibles,

now wanting to be perceptively clear.

for I am the shock of my nervous system,

standing in

without the posture of fear.

take me, 

from where I have come

into the all of this breathtaking. 

ask of your self,

in the intimacy of awe,

does boldface ever not lie ? . . .