I go to where in weep.
not trying for words.
not sure,
it has a condition of purpose either.
it doesn't have a behavior for presentation,
either.
my body might be exhibiting a quiet steadfastness.
yet listlessly attending,
as if passively defending against reproach.
yet, inwardly, there is expanse,
as if an embarrassing enormity,
steadfast and somehow dedicated
to what weep is expressing,
without declaration of meaning or cause.
surely, it is emotion coming to rainclouds,
precipitous from a very inward plain.
weep doesn't want to have a conclusion for cause.
nothing posing, as reason for.
standing there in stillness,
weep is fertile of lightness of being.
weep is not prepared
to be of audience experience.
this is a weep seeking connectivity,
as if unbounded oneness occupied.
resolute, as if weep is nectar outpouring,
as if the essence of light,
without any sense of direction intended.
just weep, as within beaming,
brightness without show,
essence without cause or account.
weep as if,
from within unbounded isness . . .
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