A pain in the chest
corresponds with a thought
which responds to the heart
clarifying:

“I do not condone evil
but embrace the many selves within
the reality of self diverging.

There is no seat of self;
no place where being rests.
There is flowing, growing,
expanding forever
in reiteration.”

The elusive mystery
that’s split so I can see
with both eyes.

The merging
of the heart
within the mind.

To feel,
a bubble round the brain
containing memories
of souls sustained,
in ethereal suspension.

To think,
in cognizant alignment
with the heart,
acting upon pulse
and impulse.

Creating resonant sounds;
echoes upon
the proverbial mountain range.

Mirrors mirroring mirrors;
with an inward breath, a deeper drink;
to sink within the soul,
and feel the whole, instilled in stillness.

To be, through becoming
in dialogue diverging;
the everflow bestowing
presence amongst transience.

I am All as I am Nothing.
A seeing thing, believing
that the tapestry is me;
the shifts becoming being,
illusory.

I am pings of energy,
resounding in a field of ripples,
communicating notes
of an intricate, endless song.

I am right where I belong.

This is me:
sediment eroding
in the current of consciousness
coalescing with Life’s
astounding breath.

This is me:
salt of the sea,
oversaturated.

Forming crystalline structures,
in perfect cubic geometry,
refracting light and energy;
protecting.

This is me:
reality unfurling;
elements disintegrating
into quintessential, natural information.

This is me:
consciousness in conception;
forming will from flow
with no direction.

This is You.
It is me, too.
But we are one,

look into
another’s eyes
and see the sun reflecting.

We are light beings;
fragments of reality
dissecting

everything.

Miracles of being in transpiring.
Precipitations on the cycle
of the endless ocean.

Unseen, 
in dark unknowing;

gazing into unreflective waters,

beckoned by the deep.



A shroud of deadened sound,

in windless night, in hush.

The world, my home, 
holds its breath.



As I am,

slipping from grip, 

a yawning mist

and incorporeal.



Seeking
to define
 the indefinite,

intangible and shifting, 

ephemeral resonance.



Sluggish, in a dream;

an astral projection
of intention.


Awaken
the mind, arrested.

Unmoving, in sleep paralysis.



A voiceless song,

belonging to the lungs,

never echoed.



Choking on my death.

Unworldly breath.

What am I?

Can I not see
myself?



The mind identifies

with drifting tides. 

Unbound from time,

I cry.



An aching
sinks, 
beneath the chest
.
Within the gut, it rests.



My soul, instilled
in stillness.


My greatest wish,
a passioned kiss
with 
the intimate

unfurling
of the world 
in
ubiquitous coalition.



The breath of life
,
which fills my lungs, 

never meets the blood.



To be. 

To be.

To be

and never question.



To be free
and known,

as evidenced in vested
interest 
with my sole existence.

I want to be known.

Why can’t anyone see me?

to touch one person, who touches one person, who touches one person...
to feel in a way only you can
to see through the lens of your individuality
to impart an aspect of your identity onto reality
you are a fragment of eternity,  

i see things changing and it aches
but we could not think, could not feel, could not experience beauty
if time was not forever rolling onward
if things did not change  

to grieve is to love
to love is to empty yourself to hold space for another
to understand in spite of your ignorance
to grasp the truth that we cannot be alone
and nothing exists in a vacuum  

i’m tired of feeling insignificant
i am magnificent, passionate enchantment
echoes resounding in the vast, indifferent infinite
an embodiment of spirit amongst physicalist pessimists  

I may be small, but I am all,  
if only I connect with existence

It comes and goes
in flurries and spurious blips
It ebbs and flows
regaining balance as I trip


I stumble to and fro
but only so
I get a grip


so I can know
the self is just a sip
from a cup from a well
of endlessness


I think I’ll take a dip in it,
the aquifer  beneath;
the self that sleeps;


the surging deep
that covers all
that I discover
in the midst of this
duplicitous engagement with
the mist


Like water
in its various states
Like cycles of the moon
like seasons changing


Like the air:
the space that holds,
where self unfolds
in rearranging


but sit with it
the emptiness
and resonate in semblance


as when breathing
we are feeling
come and go,
but never leaving


Such deceiving things
the tapestry of dreams
forever stringing being


To be the thread
not alive
nor dead
but interweaving

To see what you are
you must do the work of shedding
what you are not.

You have buried it, don’t you see?
You have buried it, but it cannot die.