there is a curse of being wiser
than what means.
where understanding places one in place and time.
yet, acknowledging the mantra of next thoughts
is as if the lips of the mind would reveal
what unsaidness withholds,
within the obviousness of secrets,
as if memories are of scripture of soul untold,
as if from that which does not descend
to become language-bound.
for that, that resides in its living isness
is when transcendence arrives,
leaving behind
the wardrobe of circumstance as residence
and then having occupancy as limitless presence.
this is where the grasp of mind
has no means of grip,
where the hands of grab
becomes the fins of flow
and then as viscosity,
becomes the sea,
as a oneness possessed with evaporative means,
for up-leaving the self of circumstance.
yet to be reborn again that creates
in the manner of eventful situationals.
and wisdom resides once again
inwardly as a oneness means.
and mindfulness will take up meaning
once again, as cause.
for the noun of it
is always in transcendence
towards the verb.
and the spirit,
having no dimensions of measure,
plays on . . .
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