I
sit lower on an upper chakra such tenor or soprano—those welted fevers or speaking
perfection where keen eyes notice something suspicious. these worlds of charlatans
these agendas while most are professing alchemy. I met a soul so obvious an
affliction but lights would sprout. to wonder sorely concerning antipathy where
many were molested by the church. so, a disgruntle position, even a heinous
evaluation, where a man is wearing transparencies. by soft chants, so enlove
with Aum, but deafly adverse to religiosity. able by powers or speaking
in tongues while afraid of Jesus.
we
might become a brief second if souls weren’t frozen while life is philosophic miseries.
to harness excitement or feel annihilated where father’s essence is debated. I met
a woman. she never preached scripture. she would summarize in her words. while
a man so sought to prevail as becoming enamored with religiosity. he would
gesture intrusively while negating exegesis where many needed to recruit him.
such tender eyes as spilling upon the cross if but to open susceptibility. but
the man was rigid, affected by science, where he imagined God found in
neurotransmitters.
the
séance is its renaissance while we claim an ancient ingredient. our famished
souls our trombone hearts after something significant. if to perish thrice if
but fiery Zoroaster or those first tenants: if but Hinduism, in all of its
plurality, where many are slow to yoga’s origin. (a man running as to look at
mirrors while returning to the same valley. those mind animals those sick
leprous-souls or such where we claim Last Days. so apocalyptic or such spirit-chronicles
where many are avoiding what they worship.) pure paradox, or evangelical
suicide, where one is a spirit-revolutionary.
we
resist oppression instead of passivity, for one would rather die once. but
cheeks are turned, where one might wonder, What makes her so special?
we
would worship the sun. but activities were human instinct. prior to a written
dialogue. we give it credit, for it remains ingenuous, where to read it is to
feel consciousness.
I
would go deeper into those bowels almost those chains.
(I
might wrestle truths or feel unaccomplished where it appears obvious in my eyes;
such whelming questions, such integrity, while we must analyze transmission;
or, as critical inquiry, we premise the human power. but we must vet, for
premises can’t support themselves, there must be something more than premises.
our deductive conundrum, in this alley of artifacts, I must accept the
premise.)
we
would adore Buddhism, by a viable analysis, “Life is suffering.” but we must
evaluate cessation, articulated by Noble Truths, where we might argue something
that whelms the human psyche. such a notion, discovered by a claim, where one
conveys the possibility to end suffering. we would meditate, to locate
intervals of peace, but we inevitably center at the initial suffering.
we
sense something crucial, in this land of vipers, each tome is studying its
universal. pain is a force, most would transform it, by what operating
principle? a claim is being made, but it requires intuition, for the author is
making an assertion. we start at transmission. we ask a valid inquiry: “Am I permitted
to suffuse at will, or Am I suffusing by my own initiative?” the answer in on
faith. I must be clear on this point: aside for energy, tangibility is elusive.
