I take
a chisel to invisibility those feelings unharvested those scudding veils. So panicked
to arrive, too close but unwrapped, at spinal membranes. To adore beyond cure
to unravel in public where people watch the spectacle. I closely died that year
as revealed in me humanity this touch rushed into pavement; but it was certain
to collapse we knew going in and we played this game for keeps; women need
something this something fits a temperament while many need something ignoring
pain; to sketch a canvas to upkeep brains or to forgive ever and anon. (I would
to life more understanding.)
I coax
self and clean self a bit uncertain about humans. I thought about neediness
this type of security and found it is necessary; such fabric flame such fair
adventure or such attention to details; this old cliché repeated so often while
a few plucked the picture.
It was
decades in thought wrestling with books and listening to qualified mentors. I saw
something changing, it up and disappeared, where newness sprang to life;
something deciduous a twenty year old leaf or remnants of that older
personality; (it is most difficult to change, to alter firm habits, much of us
belongs to our orientation); this other thatness this supreme whatness belongs
to genetics; it is quite with agony, nearly impossible, to fix a broken washer—it
must be replaced; this goes for humans to, in this world of negative powers, we
must cast off the older personality. I preach more to self, keeping in
alignment, if one wishes they can go for remodeling. But I urge this phantom,
in this interior, where private thoughts rest in our faces. Those stronger thoughts
those stalwart opinions those irremovable irritations!
I read
scripture with vengeance: I studied comparative religion: I sunk low to arise as
a creature.
The web
is first gentle our dragon is low fire as we ease into our unfair ways; time
becomes measurements and existence has particular flavor where we build a
compatible philosophy; these rules we whisper, where the world is gray, as
death be damned if I am not going to get my issue; people become means and life
is Atari while lying becomes normal. It takes awakening, if one is receptive,
in order to embark upon an arduous voyage; our thisness becomes powerful our
laws become compassionate and our anger is not so prominent; as spiritual-physics
and mental agents where we learn a few interesting techniques; but this is for
me, this peaceful meditation, while I linger in the past to extract a positive
future.
Such
ore is addictive to sense a good agent to feel rewarded by a lack of worries. They
still exist, but some things are low profile, while serious matters are
uncoiled with patience.
I
say these things while quite perturbed, for as we age we get called into wars;
this intricate pleat those foldaway(s) in curtains or this multidimensional
fabric: where wisdom speaks to occurrences; it has little pleasure in full on
hypotheticals; while many are comfortable with those secrets that are destroying
another’s spirit; (this particular truth I share: one must sense their very
existence; one must see the yarn unraveling; else, one is unlike to change—for one
is, albeit by pain, unable to see their reflection); this becomes
incorrigibility, or a need for a starker mirror, where one crashes so hard it
shifts their spirit. We end the sermon or we feel a piece of truth at
something, most might say, is long beyond its spectrum.
