resiliency's forthcoming

life in the jungle of resilience,

is taking impactful clues 

from long lines of cues,

as the mind-dance made

of the weave, 

woven from attention spans

as efforts at deliverance.

for there is 

no easy sense of confluence allowed.

pick and choose,

puzzle pieces in disarray,

foreground to back,

camouflage is the greeter 

at the otherwise sensory doors.

did I just see 

what I just heard?

did I just come to understand

what I just said?

how strange to be

in self-sensory dialogue.

some done completely internal

and otherwise, 

some on the self stage.

does that mind ever stop reading, 

when even feelings are like one chapter ahead?

it is if one could live in a town of answers

without the sensory of questioning ongoing.

would that be like a hammock on a lake-view

in the passiveness of summer's call?

is that like no place further to go

but being here as a full approach?

is that like a sense of serene 

as a complete sensory intake

and settled in 

as sensual becomes that embrace?

yes, if I only had a tail wags dog

or a endless flight in a peace of mind sky

or a diatribe of inner dialogue

that turned into a quietude of purifying hum.

yet resilience is a residence of uproars,

a choir of outrage finding common song,

setbacks with small smiles inwardly beaming,

defeats being held hostage by wide open ground,

stumbling blocks providing further leverage,

reversals forthcoming in unseen winds,

and the action pact of turnabouts

in a much larger game 

then ever appeared to be, 

that which is being played.

resiliency is not the logic of legos,

nor pander of problematic in overdrive.

but it is of witness coming from

before, behind, beneath, and above.

the wisdom coming from

beyond the mindset of time and space.

for that which comes to manifest 

is sourced from deeply within.

resiliency has that source,

without measure,

without claim, 

and without any need 

for all of this otherwise of confinement . . .