I look at substance,
like walls, leaves, feathers, fog,
ice, lightening, mirrors reflecting,
even soles of shoes, cloudy days.
and try to find each hidden essence.
looking beyond facial recognition,
excuses for wearage
or experience in overwhelm.
everything is hardware for recognition usage.
but what is going on
behind my functional recognition account?
everything having a hidden aliveness
yet I am seduced by my experiential circumstance.
I want it all to be revealed
but sadly, on my terms,
my methods of awareness and cognition.
if I start a water fight,
or make a fire,
or walk in the rain,
they are all on my terms.
I get my experience,
as if those were all props,
staging for my narrative.
I learned nothing in depth
from my prison, from within walk.
I am like an outsider,
no matter what happens.
sure, I get to do some things,
like blow out a candle,
skips stones on a placid lake,
bury myself in fall leaves,
go digital off of a screen informing,
get as close to lightening,
without damage to me done,
ride on a train
in a full-on snow storm,
eat meat as if a fulfilling meal
and can't even know the fabric of thought!
who thinks for me,
maybe as an arbitrator,
but get no leverage towards my search.
I want art before it's materialized.
how wood accepts being so compromised?
how skidding works elementally?
where does aroma go on its dispersion journey?
substance is so stoic,
so uninterested to otherwise essentially meet.
it's like an invisible orchestra meets and plays
and all I get is music to my ears.
all words are just eating utensils.
I don't want chew.
I want a sense for the isness present.
not my general means of interacting,
not someone telling me,
this is a good wine
or what elevation is,
or where we are standing.
I just want out.
no more bystander status,
no lip-service be.
just the zoom of essence,
without sensory account,
without mind as my seeing eye dog.
to be, vibrationally at home,
without being an entity . . .
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