We are not
The monsters
That we sometimes
See each other as

I don't need you
To understand me
I just need you
To believe that
I am having
A human
Experience

Just believe
I'm a person
And that I'm
Going through it

Because
It takes one
To know one

All I want was a shelter to feel comfortable with.
A warmth that you felt safe.
Trust for mutual understanding.
  And the pleasure you fully pledge to.  
  
    Seems like loving someone at this age makes us feel unsafe and unsecured, and mostly – at times, temporary.

There are seven eyes of understanding
some people in life are so commanding
but the divine wisdom behind them all
is to rise up in knowledge and not fall.
--------------
Just as there are seven planes of consciousness - seven spiritual states - so also are there seven states of understanding. It is always seven. The number seven is the divine number. The seven understandings are:

Eye of Instinct: governs the animal world which includes insects, fish, amphibians, reptiles, birds and mammals.

Eye of Intellect: rules most of the common human realm of existence.

Eye of Inspiration: is for those human souls whose feelings are developed like poets and artists and other creative people.

Eye of Intuition: is for those advanced human souls who have conscious visions and understanding true to the point. What you understand by intuition is always true. What you understand by intellect is sometimes true and sometimes not.

Eye of Insight: human souls on the fourth and fifth plane have insight; their understanding is direct, without thinking with the mind.

Eye of Illumination: means seeing God as he is and is experienced by those human souls who see the Light of God inside and outside of their mind. The understanding is divine.

Eye of Integration or Realization: this is the merging, becoming and understanding of oneself as God (the I am God state – Nirvikalpa Samadhi).
-----------------------

distanthunderstandinGod

distant
thunder
understanding
God

Compartmentalized;

..An elevated view  of you
shows booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,

.. after booth, after booth
   Each one  partitioned  with

an impenetrable  curtain
hanging off of  a bone-frame
stainless steel  pipe structure,
Built high enough  for the
different parts  of you
to sense, but not   feel..

what part of you
is in the other booth.

   Problem is,

You want and expect
me to orbit around it all
as if each isolated part
   is,  in itself..
actually the whole you..
when I know it is  only
a  tremendously-lonely
    part of the whole.
And you take love  to be
some form of blindness
  on my part

--to the elephant in the room,
And I tell you I love you..
And I tell you,  

               "No.. I won't do it"

--And your shame  kicks in
causing you to  feel
     I'm too harsh..

        or being judgemental.

Yet all along, you are knowing--
That just a few moments  with me..
and the walls come tumbling down.
   .          .          .          .         .          .          

When the partitions  drop
(that is your terror)
(that is your horror)
You will not annihilate
into a million fragments  
   of nothingness

The you(s)..  of you
will meet one another
for the very first time
since you were first  dismembered
(fragmented, so very long ago.)
You will not  disintegrate, love..

You will  Re- integrate.

Love does that.  It does.
But you already know that.
Yet still you hide (.. from me.)


You are addicted  to the 'comfort'
the partitions's isolation brings.
Your relationship is not with
the sum of the parts  as a whole..
but with the internal  "construct"  within you--
  the chasm..  the gap..  

--the empty space between those parts;
as it uninstalls one part of the intricate you
and re-installs the next

And you have no idea   how to
   orchestrate
the many different parts  of you
   like a conductor would do
   with his orchestra..   therefore,

You can only be in relationship
with one part of yourself at a time--
..Each partitioned  'self'
has an e-mail address
Each one  has
a separate account  of its own..
Each one,  within itself..   convinced
that it carries within itself
its own, separate genetic imprint

Each one,  you can  milk  
within its incompleteness
     as if it in itself,   is complete--
    .. Flaunting it, flaunting it;  
    as though it is the complete you
  while all other necessary  parts of the whole
  remain dangerously dormant..
   --being Unholy-ghosted  by

    whatever currently-visible part of you
    now  has control of the ship.


--And throughout the years
I am expected to weather the storm
and gather  pieces,  from pieces..
and then magically (oh.. I can..)
piece them all together as I speak to you
without you having to even  feel
the tension (absurdity)  of the
mis-placed  accountability
   (and responsibility)
    to enter into love
    as a Whole (the sum of many parts)

And so here I am..  orbiting    
    orbiting  orbiting--
around your ever-changing  mood swings;
        the   "Paul-is-good,"  one day
        and  "Paul-is-bad,"  the next,
       (those ever-changing perspectives,
       gaslighting.. gaslighting.. gaslighting)
   --in order that you might  remain   'the same'
   based on whatever current-visible  part of you
   is currently at the helm..

       The current pilot of the ship
       wholly unaware of the leadership styles,
       opinions and views of that  of the last.  
Harsh sounding.. I know..
(but you know..)

And so, here's the rub--

You are feeling your days
to be numbered..
You have been around me
too long, love.
(that is your fault)   You knew.

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4159831/tourniquet-smiles-yeah-that/

I wrote that  such a long time ago


We are getting closer to Home, love.
I wrote this strange little ditty
before I wrote that other one..

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3383529/fragments/

What you have feared  most
has now given way
to the sound of inevitability

   (You should have ran
             ..but you didn't.)


..The sound of inevitability
 isn't really a sound at all..

..It is the  sound of you  still
  standing there.❤

Staring off, into a hallucinogenic scar
Of a. Man that used to frolic,
I notice their eyes dwelling in its luggage,
Seeking diamonds of speculation though
Some might think of this as attention.

It burns in its atoms,
Hoping to observe shock.
Perhaps, a catastrophe.
Perhaps, an awakening,

It’s up to the magical world of the mind
To procreate perspective on that
Cacophony of benevolence, as
A mother does when presented their child,
By means, of surgical hands,

Concurring it’s value,

Like a beauty salon,

Signaling its importance
By rendering eyes to acknowledge its
Constant self transforming,
While dollar signs kindle their way through the Amazon to confrontation,
A song The Spectacle knows oh so well
While society dissects in its cultural forms,
Like Yahweh,
And “you don’t know what you say”
Or essence of Christianity,
And Tathāgata.

Brain dead poet,
Lost in the slums of
Originality and inspiration,

A hue of blue,
What else is new?

                                The changing of the guards.

Sea-Flower
you were never one of us
not really
I think you drifted
perhaps we cut you loose
I cannot remember
anyway we meant no harm
we had the shallow callow charm of youth
a cruel chant
which slays the slayer in the end
how could we comprehend your need
or the way that it would end
one cold October day among the ****
pale as apple blossom
Sea-Flower indeed