walk in the shadow

I walk in the shadow, 

that walks me.

inner dialogue is often overheard.

there is that part of me

that shows concern over sensory input,

as some process of awareness that completes.

even though I have no vested interest.

doing being a person feels like an add-on.

a lot of physical rules ordained into action

are, as if to show up in a body 

and have a lasting recollection to revive.

I could have all the say in the world

and it only is surface to what feelings offer.

not so much as self 

and then experience endlessly proving,

but as a manifest amongst so many others,

some as plants, some as solids

others, even without physical as evidence.

the artistry of naming is a waste of awareness,

as if separate from 

has a dignity of worth mentioning.

feel never had a language means

other than to be the immerse.

to say,

'I take walks in the garden',

is a suicide note of dedicated separatism.

that I would have as an I,

is just vibrational foolishness,

as if to pee in the ocean

and still call the ocean me.

there is no mind for the consummate.

and the feeling of being will never accept

that separate from, is a form of existence.

what death and flesh and burn or dirt comes

is just mannerisms of physical outcome.

but the be, 

as referential as it is,

was, is, and will, 

be.

words, as said,

are just the confetti of the moment

in a sky of experiential concern.

but the consummate of beyond,

that has no timetable,

no sense of it, self as separate,

has the limitless now.

as I say to a self as the I of me,

I walk within the shadow 

that walks as me,

and inner dialogue 

is often overheard . . .