We all, at times,
travel in the secret society
of underground
rivers of otherwise connectedness.
Why, we are all so
far far away and remote,
and yet get that
someone is dedicated to be that you,
the everso hum of
that particular you.
We, are of an inner dialogue
that cannot be
said out loud.
When put into
actual words,
there is a
barren-ness without the accompaniment
of our intimate
environmental sooth
or the levity of
our beings,
that is field
sharing in the exquisiteness of our sameness.
I am a respite to
you that goes without saying.
I know and you
know
but nobody in our
immediate worlds would even suspect
the inwardness or the soul-depth with which
we have these
inward exchanges.
Yes, it is amazing
that we keep on keeping on.
Maybe it is a
riddle to be answered at some point
in the future of
our lives in do time.
I feel the ooze of
us,
even though there
can be no admittance.
I feel like a salt
lick to serve you
and am comfortable
in doing so.
Why it is like
this, I do not know nor question
but accept as
dynamically rich
and worthy of our
co-participation.
Take a moment and
lean up against me as you.
There is a you
that I hold for you to realize
from within
yourself as well as for me, in a likewise.
There is joy when
the tuning forks of this nature respond, whoever initiates in the ethers of
conscious life.
Our magma of being
may never truly surface but is,
in all ways, a
blessed upheaval
in the churn of
our beings,
in otherwise
connectedness,
sacredly in motion
. . .
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