if thought had a life without words,
as thought that rushes around without wardrobe.
what if verbiage is a form of reductionism,
if all one had was a feel-rendering to ponder.
we are so quick to rush to words,
as if a surety exists in doing so.
I'd rather feel you than believe you.
I'd rather sense you than understand.
I'd rather be with you,
without our regard to time and space.
what if thought without words has feel?
what if feel has efficiencies that thought lacks?
what if I wanted alignment rather than agreement?
I wanted a greater than the whole of the two of us,
something expandedly spacial
that felt like more than just you and me.
something that defies thoughts as conclusions
and lives on beyond what attention proves.
I wanted us to have a language of just looks,
where I look at you while you look at me
and the exchange is complete.
no words exchanged yet mission accomplished.
that's where I want thought to follow up on.
that's the world order I want to live in,
starting as a party of two
and advancing,
that two, to ten, a hundred, a mill.
eventually and eventfully a species would be the goal.
how did language get so much in the way,
as if a failsafe that really is counterproductive?
yes, we get understanding as such
but agreement is not what I am meaning.
I am wanting alignment from a deeper place within.
am I crazy to ask
yet alone, to attempt to use words to express?
spoken seems like a suicide of mental contrive-ment.
maybe I just want the life
before thought is legitimized by verbiage,
before the singularity of identification overwhelms.
like I am in a raft of awareness
on a floating presence,
going where it takes me
and embracing the wet and the dry,
the streaming as well as the bouncing.
but I haven't a need for thought to name anything.
the embrace is ever oncoming
and that's what I want
out of people-to-people awareness.
where we are the float, the stream,
the wet and the dry,
the river and the bounce,
without the fallback on anything being named . . .
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