the tapestry of subtle sensations

to be at the level of existence,

that can't be confirmed but buoyantly is.

where there is the reach 

that expects for, a forthcoming grasp, 

but that lives, unannounced in the transition.

where there is the sensory of a hug, bearing import,

that comes into the presence 

of a full awareness embrace. 

the afterthought of a handshake, 

now leaves the impactful residue 

of an empathic intake.

when a look meets a looking back,

that leads to a spontaneous ignition

of shared presence 

in an unanticipated emotional kindling.

when what was in the harbor of self

as secured seclusion as the unsaid,

heads out to the open seas for to say.

when the amount of days 

that get mentally calculated and counted,

gets lost in one's perception 

to an emotional estimate measuring dumb-down tonnage.

where one goes 

when sensing being is lost

and uses feelings for their eyes,  

as an emotional sense of direction.

when one's habits of routine, ritual, and order,

reluctantly experiences open undefined spaces.

when high experiences have now become posterized

as memory renditions on inner vision's monotonous displays.

when self-touch 

becomes more of the awareness 

of the imperative of demonstrated intention

and less of the feel-after in response.

when one is the presence of self in the moment

and sees that tasks of the day

are as a future that is not of the now. 

the tapestry of subtle sensations

weave of themselves,

as the glories of self witness 

as if of privated interwoven mastery . . .