blaze beyond combust 10/4/14

I see you and the blaze from an underground fire emerges. Born of lifetimes before this. Surfacing yet again. Filling me from innards, full with an inferno that dances to its own truth with or without my knowing it once again, first hand. What is that when fire-dies from its own form but fire-storms to live on as its spirit now forthcoming? What is that that recognizes through me that which is as combustible as this, the meeting of you, and lives on as flint kindling tinder through both of us, however it forms us, as the props of its own intrinsic passage. Of course there are the pertinent wisecracks to be made, for behaviors to exhibit of gender fronting gender. Remarks said into each other as if hormones ever spoke the indecent truth beyond a you-me introduction in every new life that we meet, only to once again discover that we don’t want the stigma of soul mates camping out in the forest of a rewarding life circumstance, or the syndrome of love-at-first-sight sending postcards of sighs to those not addicted or so inclined, or the common sense simplex of heart-strung togetherness fighting off the behavioral displays as if as infatuation that incessantly lingers, or memories, haunting memories, as if of stillborn connectedness, womb to weaver, intimately spoken before tongue to ear could have ever occurred, or even worse, hung up in the treetop canopy of sundrenched flesh devouring flesh as if this is a significant answer to all that can be spelled out by the fervor of our passion! Others may never know, nor ever suspect that we have shared the same saliva as androgynous cum. And no one, who is not of that fluid state, can ever imagine what that truly means as a philosophy beyond primal meaningfulness. It is nothing of importance, taken to the mind but most precious as sacred to spirit. A toast, not meant as metaphor, yet beyond being blood to each other. We are here, remote from our oneness, finding ways for becoming one yet within the syntax that experience, in its vagueness, offers. That act-out as humans that we do, is stifling as if we are separate entities in dialogue. We are making a language with reverence to reference this, yet we, in the apparel of individuals-as-predicament, so dominate this communion that sexual intercourse is the logic to inadvertently assume as if to be as ever so supremely functional. But imagine an intimacy without separate parties to conjoin, an intimacy, without the need of sense or sensory outcome. A oneness that is approaching as if harmonics at the quantum level was bleeding out as the death of separateness. And no one, who is not part of the blood-flood for themselves, is sourcing it in such a way as for this is to be sacred. This quanta that lives inside of shared collective soul, evidences out as selves of self until self, as an identity, is forever the whimper that is gone. Know this, inside every new thought about it, time is not the conduit and form is not the mystery. Where we are one, ignites a blaze where the universe of diversity willingly surrenders and the combust ends in unity beyond form. For as the fire appears to transform and that dust ascends, it also blessedly gives limitless sanctuary for this oneness to unceasingly transcend into this, a blaze beyond combust . . .