dismay in the light

 

I have a mountaineer mentality 

and developed climbing skills

as if as a method to levitate.

I run as fast as I possibly can

for as long as I can,

as if giving me 

a private permission towards flight.

I have a sense of self,

as if it is a humbling presence 

on a much larger being.

I have a hidden context, 

as if the feel of emotional prison bars,

that withhold me, 

from a sense of personal freedom.

languaging is the lip service I say,

conclusions are the major crime 

that I continually commit.

I identify my heart as boundary-less

and that is forever puzzling to the rest of me.

time are the shoelaces I wear 

that never seem timely.

and spacey-ness are the junk-foods 

of my memory skills in usage.

I have gravity as a religion

that weighs upon me for my sins.

thought is just postcards of the recent past,

sent to me as my afterthoughts.

and the void is beyond 

my lip-service to attend.

there is a constant arrival in me

of the emotional forsakenness of tears.

they come from beyond 

what meaning can justify.

I linger in a wholeness,

that there is a lucid absence, there of.

love is a continuum

in which I only sense 

just aspects within it.

I am only complete silence

in the arms of others,

feeling past their circumstance,

as crazy communing, 

where we are one . . .