so, what of thought?

what of thought,

that makes it to the stage of awareness,

that is, comes to recognition?

for confirmation, as part of the ongoing,

always dressed to appear to be,

as real as thought can inwardly substantiate,

as the endless environment

of the mind-movie moving on.

as if holo-sync wasn't real before invention?

as if tool didn't exist before usage's claim?

as if mind-certitude was not a level of trust?

so what of thought,

so content overbearing?

we, as such an audience of recognition,

are without the wonder of recognition of itself.

we have the pretend of meaningful,

as if world order does the honoring.

can you image that thought is a pirate,

a raider, a marauder, a thief?

as from where was it taking from?

what was it doing damage to?

is there a plaintiff of the other side?

as if sidedness is not its own versionary truth.

can you image a journey 

that is not thought provoked?

could you go 

where no return is offered in reward?

oh we try for such,

but hard to journey without baggage along.

hard to leave the incessancy 

of that kind of retentive awareness.

to go where no registry is gained.

where compared mind is left behind.

where containment, as an observational sense,

is uselessly discarded

by the overwhelm of presence.

undignified by any sense of recognition. 

sacred is without context or containment.

think has that existence,

but thought bargains for exclusivity rights.

thought invented the silk road 

to a reality-land.

and we are the proud vagrants of occupancy.

for us, thought is so breath-worthy.

it is the tedium of richness exemplified. 

yet there is a world of difference,

between the lust-for and the yearn,

between the driven and the drawn,

between cognition and that of thoughtlessness,

of emotion that cannot be of capture by design,

that cannot be less than whole,

not party to or in agreement with.

where feel is think without self intentioned.

where feel is the hologram without dimensions.

where feel does not seek the expression of is.

for there is no is of any contextual stature. 

than of oneness, 

not to be identified.

one does not become one by seeking one.

that is a negative affirmation 

of the expression of denial.

withholding of its own accord,

as if separate from, but seeking.

distinction has no residence.

confluence becomes the override.

and what of thought

has left its residence,

its occupancy,

its residue?

as if a false presence, 

eventually is absolved, dissolves, 

and is resolved.

as if time is 

just a manner of laughing at itself . . .