Every time I find
myself
as a traitor to the
greater cause,
I have to
acknowledge
that I am doing
knowing
rather than a
prominence
of inner being
presence.
Yes, I am in the
theatre of void-think
but it has returned
as reflective,
languaged, and
thought,
and completely
surrounded
by a conversant
audience mind-set location.
I am besieged by
others,
who are likewise and
also.
It’s so intense;
I hardly can
distinguish
where the inner
screen is.
And when it becomes
clear,
what I really see in
my mind’s eye
is a mirror
reflection of us all.
Another media
dimension
of the same
circumstance reiterated
as topical or as a
steadfast ever changing
but ongoing
conclusion.
And that this is
what is so
and a continuance
pronouncing it as such.
Experience comes on to me.
It is and has been
an indoctrinating lifetime
of entrainment and
occurrence.
I have reduced my
entire sensory range
just to handle the
onslaught of the obvious
and the dally of the
mundane.
It seems that we all
have traded mystics
for pointer dogs
and no one is the
wiser
as long as we all
live in these kennels
of passive
agreement.
Sure, knowing gets
me on a platform
but it does not
guarantee tickets or passage
and then to question as to where!
Hopefully not to the
further land of experience!
I get how experience works
and it is not deeply
fulfilling.
Experience is
get-bys, high and low points,
memories as imprints,
and the engine, it
seems, is always running.
I surely do not want
the sense of home
to be a state of
reinforcable convictions
ever reasserting
themselves as proof.
Home is not a
concessionary position
or a mind-fill
either.
Doing knowing is
kind of hobby-esque
but generally
enjoyable.
But I have a
longing, a yearning,
an all out hunger,
a need for an
undisclosed type of quenching,
a sense that seeks
not completion but is,
a belonging that is
involuntarily a given,
a wholism conduit
through me
or I should say
through the loss of me.
Knowing is humbled to be in the moment
but passes with an
ease
as if fact had a
shelf life
and then gone.
Doing knowing is a
form of negative Zen.
I keep doing knowing
what it isn’t,
on the path to what
or the lack of what
truly is . . .
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