the most personal,
is the most inwardly ingenious.
the most private,
is the most difficult to perceive.
the cutting edge of being
does not come to the surface easily.
so much is overlay,
thickly in passing.
so much are the touch stones of habit,
ever compelling.
yet we seek beyond
what expectation can command.
I find,
before self is realized.
I author,
out of emptiness, claimed.
so much remains unrevealed
in each of us.
we are presenting, as diversity,
claiming oneness unrealized as such.
for us all,
to go inside before cognition steals,
to give speech the rights of tone over topic,
to let emotion be the wisdom,
that crosses the barrier of lifetimes,
to be of the energetics,
that creep along from within,
overwhelmed,
by the apparency of sensory in charge,
and the immediacy of circumstance fronting.
to find residence,
deep drawn inside,
that is not composed of plain and simple,
but having elements,
that defy language, as the intruder,
that will only let emotional carriage to occur,
for the irrational in sunlight to see,
for the dark night to silently hear,
for the heart to pander,
for what the soul is,
as conceived.
we don't journey in that dimension attentively.
it is a creative enterprise of profound drawnness,
as stealth,
in utmost deep-drawn privacy.
know does not get to go there,
for the what
that tumultuosity of impeccable surrender provides.
where one is eaten up,
as one's own nuance-intercourse of intimacy.
possibly then to survive,
as an energetic presence
that channels through,
into the course of one's life,
possibly to realize,
but not be guaranteed,
conceivably as transcendence unspecified,
just soul presence, more evident,
as deeper levels of embrace embodied.
we all are that nectar.
our eventuality is a chrysalis process.
wings of the heart will come.
for each of us,
is as migratory,
to the homeland
of common soul . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment