mind-full

I want to be mindful 

beyond what think has to offer.

feelings, as if stolen,

like blossoms of the heart

that are harvested into cognitive bouquets,

for the endearment of the potential say. 

the garlands of lip usage, 

providing verbals of delight.

no, I want for mindful,

that does not come to register into words.

I want for the mind

to surrender its false dignity presence,

to journey beyond what makes sense,

to have logical and comeuppance release the hounds

of their doggedness, 

to take their pursed lips of quippy-ness

and swallow their readiness of upkeep,

and deeply bow

out of the picture, 

out of the frame,

out of their kept-ness,

and find humble to be 

their relaxed state of being.

yes, mind, 

without the wardrobe of presented-ness.

just mindful,

as if a born child,

before the inception of human indoctrination occurs.

mind without the pretense of incoming as aware.

where before sensory overload occurs.

to be there

and be of that which is

in its own forthcoming.

where feeling was its own mentor 

and mind was just a tagalong. 

getting back to the mountaintop, 

way before village life becomes 

that which occurs.

before life in the tapestry

became awareness of the weave

and usage of the garment of me.

where the distant call

that is heard 

is without reference to direction or source.

that is so far away, 

but of the depth within me.

that voice,

that goes on without saying,

that speaks to me, of me,

is without words to readily assure.

I want,

for the mindfulness of that,

even if sensibilities are all set aside,

even if I can only say in sounds

and have no words, 

for meaning to render 

into states of understood.

mindful as connectedness, 

as fluid of a oneness gene,

that takes me out of time and space

and yet places me well within.

where only the mind is possessed

with paradox and duplicity.

it is there,

as if there is a that there

and when there,

I want to be mindful, 

beyond what my think has to offer . . .