I am there

I got out of the car

and then I drove myself home.

like a flat tire,

now on the side of the road.

I sat there 

in contemplation.

pondering the routine of motion,

my here to there,

without purpose as a working premise.

just the embodiment of carriage,

beyond what cause could claim.

cars passed, left to right,

like zoom-reading lines of life as a narrative.

no words stuck with the clutter of meaning.

just sounds and visuals, 

as I watched my eyes see.

not interested in their registry.

it could have been fan-blades

in a likewise fashion.

the breeze from them was impactful

but not convincing me of anything. 

I was just outside my sense of the feel.

I couldn't be there long

or someone would stop and question.

drugs, dire need, brake-down?

and so with witless purpose instilled,

I appeared to get back into the car.

sure, my body did all of that

but my mind, my feeling,

carried me on.

I had a witness of self,

like never before.

a long view that didn't settle for surmise.

it wanted a working premise of my existence.

it wanted the energetic truth of me,

beyond claimed circumstance,

without the possibility of excuse 

or distracting account forged into inner dialogue.

it wanted the speak of me from beyond all of that,

as some inner voice that goes on without saying.

it doesn't generate meaning

as much as it says what is so.

it has emotional overtones in its delivery.

it sheds all the excess 

and speaks from the bones.

forget philosophy or feigned earnestness.

there is this presence as resolute.

I am just wardrobe in passing as existence.

it's what I wanted to hear

by not attempting to listen.

it's energetic before I had personage.

if I could cry tears made of honesty,

I would have shed them.

instead, I gained a witness of depth ongoing.

a dimension of self beyond self understand,

a greater whole than self can oblige.

the rest of me can think it mystical

but witness of being is on.

no action, no mood, no cause to distract, 

taken to be beyond its worth.

if you can handle that as a perspective,

no moment of now is that impressive.

experience outwardly gained

is way over-rated on the take it to mean.

there is an embodiment, 

we're all in it, 

but not to be just realized.

it is sanctuary undisclosed. 

it is invincibly beyond where battle lives.

it doesn't even slander itself into words.

it is as if knowing had a depth

that feeling pursues pronouncing as words.

and if meaning was the supposed-to-be reward,

then that game is over.

we live beyond and come from

before meaning had a life.

meaning is just spit-polish on the boots of living.

we march in circles doing that.

this is pervasive in its constancy.

I am now forever on the side of the road,

where experience flashes by.

you can stop to help me

I am there to understand . . .