I take to the wrangling with words, trying to whittle them
into birds of flight from the mind to heart beyond the matter at hand. Words
that come and go, as if name tags in passing on the experience-flow of the day.
Looking at words in the way as if staring at a stream reveals eddies that
seemingly surface-appear but then are gone. Some look up at me with those big swirling
eyes that impart a meaning I am in desperate need of and didn’t know before their
presence at hand. Some wander by as if on the side of my sightseeing eyes on a naming
road-journey but don’t get a second glance. But some strike me, even in the
slaughterhouse of supposed understanding, and these, they go much deeper. They
are words I cannot kill with interpretation’s conclusiveness. These words are
encrypted with heartfeltness. These words show me self-reflected, into a mirror
of depth, my mind cannot refuse to enter. Each syllable is a leap into this
vastness. My field of being is expanded. My pubic reality self is only witness
to the inward spirit of self in this embrace. This meaning, as in the
superficial, fades but the essence intoxicatingly lingers. Self-love, unbeknownst
to me, is ignited even though I make no self-conscious claims in that regard
but the feeling is fullness and light. How can this happen and not be a
conversation with a soul-mate, or an angel, or a divinity blessing me with
presence? In my prison of awareness, I take with my hands a vow to rub against
the walls of these words until all is dissolved before me, until the essence is
both revealed and imbibed within me. Words, all of them, as vacant and wayward
as it may seem to me, I still dedicate to this rub against my reality as
consciousness provides me with this ongoing option. Until I am a tear larger
than my body’s capacity for water, until I am a cry-out beyond the mass of me
to be sound, until I take up no space as a separate being any more, I am the
rub-up against words, I am the invitation to hear and interpret and understand
as if that is the (w)rappings on the true gift offered beyond the register of
meaning, beyond the path-work of recognition, beyond the mindfulness of comprehending.
For me, there is a spiritual encryption to every word, and I will listen with
the ear of my heart until every utterance-mountain of life before me and of me
has,
in essence, spoken this sound of oneness through me . . .
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