maybe it's just a lament

 

tie me down with textual and linguistic

to make what comes out of my mouth

before I free think quite privately, 

before retort occurs,

before words steal away with certitude

to swim the mind-deeps without logicals,

without a witness for apparent order.

all that is energy in motion,

that doesn't live for labeling's reward.

to have a sense for that,

that doesn't fall prey to cognitive clarity 

as reward.

where objectification feels like mirror time of self,

which is not helpful in this yearning process.

wanting to feel for fluidity that already is

but finding that it is 

by method served to live in denial,

to impeach the sensory world

for not abiding 

by human perceived standards.

order is beyond us, 

but order we make real.

belief is so pretentious that way.

there is a basic connectivity ongoing

and we are just a mindset away 

from participating. 

other levels of consciousness speak out

yet we have words 

as our formalization process.

how can each of us be

by the lowest common denominator,

and claim connection and alignment?

all out natural instincts 

have been tampered with

by the time adulthood takes a stance.

we are mostly sided and positional 

by actions taken.

nature is an endless study course f

or humans,

and so far, not a clue about a passing grade.

and we don't even live for the joy of recess.

at least we have each other to blame.

so walk in the woods of your senses.

have a conversation with a tree.

make some sort of friendship with nature,

so that it can give us some sense 

of perspective

other than our basic self-entitled view.

for nature is constantly demonstrative.

how curious it would be 

to be out of our skin

and become part 

of the multi-realm settlement.

the earth experiment 

raising its consciousness

and we, 

then as active integrative participants.

crazy as that is . . . 

maybe it's just a lament. 

but just saying . . .