I’d sense a seed the being of self, holding on by a sky-rail, longing for what he can’t pinpoint, aching nonetheless. They say the seed desires to get back home, to a fair garden, within a soul, into holy soil. The self would feel detached, thus separated, estranged from itself, its community, its future. If nothing exists beyond human constructs, why is there a hole, a sense of incompletion? “That’s for religious souls.” Is religiosity a choice—despite overtness verses human activity? I’d sense essence yearning, with reality wild-like, a part of the seed seeking a universal: flesh, bone, spirit. The incorporeal probes human modalities, pushing and tugging, with a sense of aching, disenchantment, part darkness, unaware of how to render closure. Each piece of self remains without solace. In harnessing a glimpse, one is said to experience ecstasy. (What becomes at once important is—these experiences can be replicated—in part, this is the addiction of the matter. We desire union, oneness, devoid of division.) I’d sense a seed the being of self, gripping ideals until they wear down. (In all the getting, and I vacillate at times, I do apologize, but something permits all things, there’s an impetus, in sensing this reality, one falls into freefalling.) Moses performed before magicians. They, too, put on performances. The winning is not the point. The fact of the matter is this: what belongs to God could be mimicked. This opens a storehouse of literature. We will concentrate of losing ground, or warring addiction, where what we assert belongs to God, is therein mimicked. One might go a different direction, torn asunder, into high hills, chasing what seems performative, by far with unease, trying to get back to the first breath. (The self is not promoting tenacity; plus, we’re speaking of things beyond pure physics … we’ve no business here, with all the right to be here ….) I was a seed before I was a seed. I came from some space. I’m a spirit. I will return to some place. One says: “It’s all humanism, we just can’t accept that.” This is a powerful suggestion. To which I say: “Where two or more are gathered in my name, I am present.” It circles back to an impetus, a guiding principle, a parenthetical contingency.
