to meet without release 1/18/15

When is action not a ventilation of the deep-seated subterfuge enterprise? When is action simply the expression of accord? All the tension that is woven into attention yet disguised, all the statures of effort that seem to stare at me as if an enrollment in a religion to save me that is to surface gloriously and withstand the whispers and the understated, the murmurs and the silent weeping from within. Really motion is my religion before reward becomes my prison. Industrious out of nowhere is my cause. If I give it passion, it is contradiction that applauds me in the blacksmith haunting of my heart. Faint light is wisdom to refine my soul. For me, there is no justification in a worldly manner possible. All those defenses bleed a consciousness that offends my vision of sacredness. Sexuality is the only paradox that laughs within me, ever so secretly. My think is addicted to the esthetic approach as my discipline. All other versions fail me in time of need. Inspiration without awareness of my eternal flame is hopeless. I live for soul recognition and essentially feed on that inner sustenance that is nowhere else to be found. Strangeness in the initial appraisal is attractive beyond the scope of my intelligence and I clearly thrive on it without internal debate. Society for me, is shameless fanfare oppressing my honest efforts at spiritual wealth. Disappointment is my tireless mentor. We had words but mostly now, we have only internal nods, shared breath-sighs, and tongueless unfinished sentences from within. I want a world that is the joy of my heart. I will have to build it by some means more often then find it outside of myself. There is a mystery school that travels through me. I am both student and teacher in the same vain. So much is asked of me through me and not from me. This I know. Whatever is the tapestry of my mind, it is for the conveyance of my presence that will eventually be the message that comes forth most shared and readily received most deeply by others in my life who have prepared. I am a private altar in the heart of everyone but visited very infrequently if at all. Oneness puzzles me in that way. In the end, my eyes will look through you to see where it is that we will meet again as one, without release thus leading to the unity of our being. I live for that and through that, provide for those that are coming . . .