I feel like
a dismembered limbless heart
having to use the locomotion
of a compassionate purpose
on this torturous path
duty-bound forward
falsely rewarded with futures
comprised of language, substance
and circumstance
there is a drawnness
by no obvious means
there is a calling
in the noise of silence
there is a beckoning
beyond will and surmise
there is a crazy wisdom
that knows of no other
the feeling is not essence
it is a happening
chasing after essence
what constantly calls
is where we are one
where we are grateful
for love there occurs
before simple emotions concur
delight within
enough with
what already is
for it to happen
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