Meaning sickness (re-post)

Where do I want meaning

to take me,

since I am unavoidably along

for the ride.

Well I don’t really want certitude,

that feels so custodial and static.

For me,

there is no comfort

amongst pillars of reference

and gray shadows of ambiguity.

Maybe I really want to go

to the edge of knowing,

to back look

into the fabric of knowledge.

no. . . not look at its job or posture

but look at its being,

where it exists beyond words,

where we meet without introduction,

just beyond the reach of its grasp,

where grasp is exposed

as being entitled and one-sided

where whatever the complexity . . .

lets me in.

I want to be there,

to be there in the whirl

without intrusion on my part

and without the distraction

of relatedness or identification.

I want to be there

where the security of permission

is never in the form of a question.

I want to be there

where we are present

with no solutions in mind-sight.

just there . . .

where meaning brought me

but does not bother me

with accountability nor surmise,

just there . . .

way beyond the ride

and now is scintillating . . .

And when I recover,

I will always remember

it was meaning

who took me there.

It was meaning

who took me to there

and provided a safeguarded-ness

but let me be

very much on the edge

just beyond

where meaning is momentous

and monumental,

in the just beyond . . .

yet not obliged or burdened

oppressed or encumbered . . .

with meaning itself. . .