most
are engraved by experience, mobile chaos in time, wishing upon tigerstone. like
missing agendas, made susceptible, while I’ll assert what most have
experienced. many delete those sparks, they hush their discernment, nor have we
all confronted our bears. two come together. they have an orientation. they
expect to outwit their habits – prior to flutes, made vicious in rehabilitation,
where bears are in our cabin. I was listening to hissing or serpent music it
seemed unfiltered. by demanding indignation or indigenous roots, while I have
little to contribute. but pain as locomotive or a pond of sadness, it amazes
how close two may become. as asking for essence, something I have never given,
while for others, we try a new voyage; tugged at core a kernel becomes a willow
where I deny self every interruption. but sweet cadence sweeter understanding
insomuch as interior gravitates – as to itself but pain is so rich while I need
the me—I prevail – as some illusion some curse so angry at the souls emerging:
rites seeming superficial, surface lutes seeming broken, or dear affectation
seeming receptive.
I was a balloon,
not as in weight, but atop one minute and down the next. they call it a
spectrum, up to go down, or down to go up, or at a segment in-between various
degrees ... or flat in a circle, many can’t fathom, why we might sit in silence.
souls departing on days, a hollow space, a barren celebration. our pictureless
bear, our invisible polaroid, our imaginary photoshop – the hyena on
sabbatical, our intelligence at full throttle, one churn, the hyena is gnawing
at spirit.
the gorilla is
shady, it might be happy, or it might be delirious, while it instructs our
bears. so long ago, while years are running, in such a manner, I have lived
more than I have left.
