The nature of pain
is dependent upon the action
of our conclusive nature
in convincing us to death.
Not so much
the conclusion itself
but the process
that gets us there.
Find the real guts
of the process
not just the language
and appearances
and what we can give
as a pain account
but how what we think
when we think it out
that makes it seem
relevant for us.
That place in the process
where we all dwell
into summary
is our metaphorical
environment of pain.
Pain is just that one word
that cryptically represents
our connection to another
secretly inner world.
Kind of a personal
cryptic code word
into a world of assumptions
about how we are
and our expectations
as to how it should go
as either a summary or litany
of all the disappointments
that languish
until there is a sentinel
or flashpoint of pain.
Pain is simultaneously
the syntax
and the sentence
expressed.
Pain annunciates
towards angst.
Pain calls out
for sympathy or empathy
but no explanation
forth coming
could elucidate
the personal and private
complexity of this carriage.
Treatment in response
is a reductionism
not an embrace.
Without this utterance
as interpretation
there is no summary
as statement.
The searching out of pain
continues.
There is a vacancy or void
spawned within us
to pursue it
as if to fill.
We as anthropomorphic
become our pain.
We come from the deities
of disillusionment.
We of wound
symbolically bleed
a kind of consciousness
from our pain.
As long as we reside
in conclusions
as prominence placards
of our state of being
pain will be one
of our most immersive
but reticent
of sensory contends.
Pain is
for now
as one hand clapping
our philosophic resolve.
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