What can be said about silence?
Of its origins…
Of the path…
Of its intercourse…
Of its yearning birth…
Of its road built of scars
that leads towards this space
beyond the place called space.
Since no word exists yet
to explain this moments grace.
Fell unto its breathe
not from letting go…
But from this merging space
with this potent life as is…
filled with burning vitality each
moment is pulsating with an
ever fertile unforgivingness.
The words tire, with futile
ramblings that deter mist.
Sharing can be found
everywhere, giving through
forced spoons.
Leaving listeners with heavy
minds bearing stuffed
bellies within the shifting times.
Heavy with every wear
in the book.
Down to the knitty socks.
What can be said about saying?
That has not yet been said.
What can be felt about
facelessness?
In a crowd that sells selves
on a fancy gold shelf.
Absorbed so earnestly one
becomes the images themselves.
As the appetite increases
towards the yearning crave.
Detached with focus on the
space beyond mind’s space itself.
Creates a vacuum like glimpse,
a reflection of the moon…
Of this body… that has distance.
Once again… the reigns appear.
A total resignation
from no longer
forcing towards this or that
so vehemently.
A deep relaxation…
A belly laugh…
A melting…
A euphoric intoxication…
Beyond the poverty of words…
Through Liquid Crystal Spheres 