to fulfill the evermore

what if I live to un-see, to un-know, to un-sense, 

yet travel on the conveyor belt of experience?

can't get off of the greater sense of getting on.

how to cease with, 

the input overwhelm,

the narrative inward over-speed,

the sensory onslaught ever forthcoming,

the sense of definite and directedness,

the compulsion of said consciousness.

to become deeper of the beaming?

to be witness beyond the need to express?

have at the hologram,

without holding it as focus up?

be of the eternal output generatively so?

as if of a oneness beyond the sense of mingling?

to be of essence, 

beyond its expression of being so?

where "I" is nothing personal, 

with no sense of depictional or narrative involved?

where all is embrace of one-of-a-kindness?

beyond any sense of intermingling,

but more of expressive confluence, blessedly so?

can't have a thought of that,

without emotional in over-flow.

as if emotionally streaming 

is in an endless outpour.

where everything is but of nothing, 

but the deluge of oneness in flow-torrents,

pouring to fulfill the ever-more . . .