I reflect on the future's search for me,
yet only have happiest happiness
through the livingness ooze,
coming off of that possessed by others.
the wisdom of this, as nextness,
is that it never dumbfounded arrives,
but always oozing was.
and I am the humble of arrival,
as if puzzle pieces never forget the whole.
yet I dwelled in the self of edginess,
feeling lost in a boxed sense of sorts.
I was airborne before physically seduced.
the download had/has a gravity to it,
like a chained junkyard dog, it does.
yet if I had wings,
they would only act as intercessionals.
my ideal of flight has no occupancy.
it is more of a presence with everywhere,
consummate without the need of focus,
no sense of being an instrument
with a foreground-background frame,
just essence hiding out as presence,
but without need or contextual or circumstance.
what is coalesce if not an action verb?
to have emotion that has no surface to attending.
where common mind was the last costume worn
and debris was the last version of separate from.
in this form and format,
we are the rhythm of breath unrealized worldwide,
heartbeat of the drum skin of human as existence.
to have a thought that leaves meaning behind,
to feel beyond what experience can claim,
we are there and bound upon returning . . .
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