awareness is a fidget

there is an occupancy,

beyond any poignancy of sensing.

a spacial presence, 

without dimensions registering.

my mind is in the humility of this awareness.

the joy is in sightedness

rather than the results of seeing.

the joy in the mind-work of comprehension

rather than in the postures produced of understanding.

this is the joy 

beyond the experience of joy,

that of joyless joy.

maybe this is where

retentive mind provides the words 

on the welcome mats

at the front door of these unknown.

where a river runs through me, 

not as the experience of the river, 

but as the river 

that produces the evaporative means,

that comes to be present 

as the awareness of experience.

there, I overhear what my mind is thinking,

even though I have no intention of listening.

there, I listen for the sound of light

to conversationally confirm 

what I am sensing,

as I wander around in a body. 

where bumping into what its sensing provides.

otherwise it is a cathedral without walls

and the sound of being is ever playing.

the instrument of prayer 

somehow in the background.

it seems that I was somehow handed a grip,

as this cross to bear, 

as in my living.

I awoke to that grasp,

as if either a trauma or a belief.

either way, as present, 

before my capacity at it with understanding.

emotion gave it strength beyond my knowing.

then I had seemed to be journeying towards rationals,

but the volume was more than 

mental containment could embrace.

this is where everything that comes to words

is in some very internal sense, 

a process of awareness fidgeting . . .