learning as a coverup

what is learning as an adequate coverup for?

besides all the evidentials

and the mediumship of the articulate handling,

so what else?

what goes into the presence there of,

that would never surface as identifiable

behind the residence of memory,

or the formal stance of intelligence? 

what is the wave edge ridden

or the cutting edge of dedication pursued?

is there a happy state 

that can not be named as identifiable,

but yet presumes the room for learning 

to be the novelty of focus

or the edginess of the next moment's apparent attention,

as if mindful occupancy passes the time

with a fluidity that defies that march? 

is this otherwise known for its presence of boredom

or its philosophic aftertaste?

is inquiry a necessary addiction of focus?

can focus without frame actually work?

we all seem so opposed to that in action.

can't there just be a deliverance of moment to moment 

without an awareness pressing on, as imposition?

for the way we go at this existence,

we can never get to now.

learning is so time imposed.

it's like learning how to swim

by inventing float.

like conscious breathing 

is a takeover of the mind.

like identification is a white cane

as we admit to our otherwise blindness.

if I have the choice

between learning or yearning,

I would take yearning

for its emotional wherewithal in play.

learning is so front staged,

when heartfelt is 

really the source of my living . . .