the broadcast of beaming

I get bored with experience coming at me.

worn down with the activity of spectate.

want to be of the hum that rejuvenates, 

to be the simple broadcast of the beaming,

the signature of presence sent airways

in the silent chorus of togetherness,

within the unspoken dialogue, 

without questions or answers in refrain.

to be the acknowledge registration 

of a greater than,

where accomplishment is set aside

and being as presence fills all the vistas.

and nurturance is all about the giving.

and one's personal contentment 

has no conclusionary state.

where the being streams,

while the doing takes a break

with long yawns of acceptance,

as the privacy of leisureliness comes on.

there is the share of intimacy

without any takeout of subject matter.

the bloom is in the livingness of this

and the harvest is the reap of its togetherness.

it is the declaration 

from a season of collective as heartfelt.

and everyone knows its emotional song

and we collectively sing it with awareness.

where the lyrics themselves 

are not as important

as the relevance of our togetherness in tone,

as if the unsaid of harmonies 

makes for a larger than life,

as this cause becomes our calling 

and sharing gives us way 

to the consummate collective.

one's senses are attuned 

to the now as the presenting choir.

we are then the presence

giving forth of livingness

and the song of humanness gets sung

in response to simulation 

and without reaction as the cause.

we are then where 

our beings just inwardly sing,

as the creative lyrics come along.

for the original idea of a personal roadmap

is just the next step taken, 

in any direction will do.

for the essence of self-cohesion

is just getting out of one's own way.

our stream-speak is the declaration

and listen-up is 

our consciousness of followthrough.

for one's personal destiny has no audience

but only self 

as an active participant's ploy 

is in their vibrational joy.

for all of matter, us included,

in its wisdom,

lives in its wardrobe of its wearing.

wearing it up, wearing out, wearing down.

time is not really the audience to this.

it's only there to accessorize.

and the mirror of now 

gets no human intentional usage.

for no one of us

is dancing with the mirror 

as their intentional partner.

yet we are all of the simmering,

forever in that liquid state of shimmer,

with the serving up of a constancy 

of the self in ever expression.

experience attempts to override.

but the want is for the hum of rejuvenation,

the simple broadcast of the beaming

and the signature of presence 

sent across us as the heir-ways . . .