In the marrow of
each moment,
I attend to an
honesty
that is awake and
alive.
It is not in
response to stress
or of needs for
protection purposes.
It appears as an
altar,
born of stillness,
yet deep beyond the
static-ness
of that appearance.
There is ecstatic
movement
beyond sensory
indulgence
that is so refined
and so frequency precise.
If I thought it
solid,
I discover it is
liquid.
When I thought it
liquid,
it revealed itself
as aerated.
When I presumed it
to be aerated,
it was invisibly an
essence.
When I felt
confident in it as essence,
it became
imperceptibly real.
I gave up my world
of declaratives.
I could drown in naming
revelations
and miss the
blessedness in passing
of this, the nearly imperceptible
marrow of each
moment.
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