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Monday, November 27, 2023

method is its own madness


every method is the seduction 

of its own confinement. 

every sensory feeds a self 

in its aloneness.

thought languaged is a credence 

as separate from. 

recognition is the religion 

of observation's cast,

as an assurance 

of isolation's journey. 

where experience is 

an endless cesspool of particulars.

where time is 

only a shadow of presence realized.

and space is the medium 

of existence as separate from.

and consciousness is

the dedicated rituals 

of negative affirmations

as experience's relational reward.

and if we are of a 'we',

we of that 'we' 

are in need 

of sensories of confluence

rather than differentiation's galore.

we are in need of mind melds

rather than postures of agreement,

where language, in its referential usage,

becomes profoundly obsolete, 

where positionality is revealed

as just the modeling of fear,

where holism has no medium 

of or for second thoughts.

and understanding is but a vagabond

of the linear-mind on its journeys. 

to be where referential eventually discovers,

that there is no here-to-there,

that there is no individuation 

of the whole,

and that comprehension does not give

the self a stance.

but eventually, there is, 

a melting medium of verbs,

where they all eventually immerse

into a constancy of implied motion.

and mass, in its stance,

is given up as the stature of residence.

there is then a mystery in liquidity

as full wonderment, 

until there is no more

a sense of audience as observation.

oneness then leaves 

the time-bind of meaning.

oneness is no more of the relationals.

for the sacred essence of isness

leaves behind all of its decoded state.

where for, in the now, 

rapture has no experience to it

or sense of itself as existence.

'be' is without confinement.

and 'now' is without 

its wardrobe of time . . .

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