imagine in think

in think,

sensory feels like 

vibratory kinesthetic answered prayer.  

where comprehension is a wholism immersed.

there is no one-source in any linear fashion.

the truth comes from everywhere simultaneously.

there is no sense of self in receivership.

meaning is useless, 

yet as if retained for usage. 

what meaning described 

is now, 

but in the far distant past.

and memory's finest efforts 

are vaguely familiar to that now.

the fill of emptiness 

is the current wisdom 

yet as if experientially disengaged.

we have no means of transition

that allows for us

to take familiarity along.

even skills-sets of merit 

are needed to be left behind.

there is an integrity of being

as if as passage. 

it is the last of disrobing to be done.

the essentialness of being 

is without the basking in self-aware.

yet sensory is without dimensional perspective

and that frame of reference uselessly comes along.

nothing of self conversation can be heard.

it's not stillness 

but octaves outside the familiar realms.

even if you believed in hearing,

something is not right in that way.

it's like one is all ears, all eyes, all feeling

yet the sense of one as a self is gone.

I come back 

and I feel like I am stillborn.

resuscitation is shocking,

as if in high contras. 

I have comparison-attentive in mind,

but nothing really comparatively works to say.

I can't get to audience terms

without you having gone there also.

even then what would we be talking about

that isn't more fully shared in our silent presence?

if I go there that fully again,

I don't really want to come back.

it's not suicide,

but maybe satis is 

as an intentional sacrifice of explicit need.

think without the wardrobe of thought

and what does thought-relevance got to do 

with any of this? . . .