thoughts chase after our need to grasp,
yet not as immersion,
but only as objectification,
as recognition produces our caseloads
which by method,
imposes distance for us, and by us,
as separate from everything else.
our emotional needs want to meet in an immersion,
under the sense of harmony,
where there is alignment
without the anchoring sense of self
as separate witness,
but as our isness,
that is our essence,
and not be reliant on our knowing.
but narrative is premised
as audience invested in our selves,
as separate from everything else.
all of our method of experience
is in the sensory mediumship of us
as there and present
but separate from it, as ourselves.
understanding is the weaver of this encasement.
comprehension is just this sense of capture
as a further entwine of our seduction.
we, as separate from,
has linearity as the bind,
as our essential view
that intendedly accomplishes all of this.
as we are in the mediumship
of always being separate from.
all of our higher senses,
that work in vibration ways,
that yearn us into oneness,
do not technique into this sense of recognition.
they harmonize into immersion,
leave the rapture of the physical
and have no memory
and take no account.
all of time, as measurement,
is just a sense of this awareness,
as almost mental debris.
and all of space it mentally occupies,
innovates for us
as separate from, by sensory association.
experience becomes our method
of ever-building conscious imprisonment
by the acknowledgment of our continued efforting,
and the sequential-ness of mind-linearity
as it ongoingly applies.
self is the cellular of our separatism.
all of thought is just the writings of this diary
as us,
deeply aware of being away from essence-home.
and all of recognition is this orphan stage
of vacancy and our experiential hand-me-downs.
if imagination took off all of the wardrobe
of worldly wonder
and of mind generated worldly wants
and even our notion of self-awareness
in its state of past, present and future,
and we were just of essence as it is,
without this wherewithal of recognition or account,
and no more of the address of definiteness,
not even of the mediumship
of doing being aware,
and with no more the sense of a you and a me,
as a medium of our reflected confirmation
with no more of that functioning,
as the texture of being,
as meaning being our wardrobe worn.
and we were admittedly,
just being of this human-chrysalis stage
in which there is for us,
the leaving behind of all this mass and form.
and that all of hydrogen and oxygen
were discovered to be
but the last speakers for us to hear.
telling us for now
of their greatest story
as they are and have ever lived it.
and in doing so,
where we are as the audience of experience,
listened up attentively,
but we were eventually leaving,
as if it were ever ongoing,
yet we found our essence
without the need for experience
as human lifeforms
under the hydrogen and oxygen story told . . .
