the litany beyond languaged

all language spoken is in a litany,

as the religion of commonsense,

for the divinity of higher comprehension.

belief is so fabric worn that kind of way.

it's when rituals overtake habits

and habits loose their sense of self-intimacy.

inward presence of being gives way

to outward representation.

societal is now the stage,

as awareness becomes stage presence.

the insincerity of projection becomes commonplace.

the intimacy of self disclosed

becomes a sacred enterprise.

beauty beyond one's capacity to apparently luster

is so much the need for human intimacy,

beyond the clutter of existence rendered.

I want for moan,

for half-steps taken at a loss of directedness,

for play the exudes the invisibles of joy,

for where transfixed either gets bored

or falls asleep on the job.

I would settle for a drool from spiritual enterprise,

auric beckoning 

that hardly has any reality compromise to it,

a whim of irrational musing, 

endearment that physicality can't come to express,

even sounding without the formation of words.

I need a water hole filled with the void.

I have a thirst in need of a quench,

a seed in need of a soil,

a vapor in need of ascendency,

a calling out

that choruses back,

a presence beyond understanding's pittances.

I want to bleed out an ocean of want,

have gravity sing me awake,

have light have intercourse to re-conceive me.

I want to be

that seed,

into long lived, full blown tree,

into fallen, firewood burning,

into ash, into soil, 

into the nurturance of seed.

all in one breath,

for every ongoing that precedes me. 

all the way back to the isness

that takes no form of matter to exist.

and then we can all talk about it,

as if it really exists . . .