when meaning leaves

somehow am required to sense the way I do,

make do out of next moments account,

feel for the limitations,

but expand beyond what can be confirmed,

accept confinement as if put to words,

deal with the logic of gravity and understand,

admire as if separate-from is a given,

order from the menu of next moment's call,

be in wonder, not why, but because,

find a self-narrative that doesn't feature captured,

observe as if reverence for rules and pseudo order,

find that every conclusion is a form of mockery,

have a soul depth that seeks no answers,

know that understanding is ever implied,

find a oneness that has no past, no future,

that even experience comes to eventually doubt.

all realization are but of a passing fancy.

all utterances leap to their death.

they become the part of the flame, 

that gathers no heat,

that sheds the access of light

and journeys into essence demystified.

what that makes for space being so metaphorical

is as if, separate from, is a given of circumstance.

eventually all words come from the same meaning,

and then, meaning lives itself to be . . .