Intention

Intention, for me, is like

a shy cloudbank

of conjecture,

peeking over the horizon

of this moment.

Intention is a vaporous tarp

of unseen method

that demands

concrete enactments

for existence.

I feel assigned a clipboard

of my observable traits

with check boxes

and the riddle of intention

as task

from my self-emitted vibes

towards connectivity

with others.

We . . . humans . . .

are as a family

always in movement

towards closure.

For me . . .

intention in life

is this soup kitchen

towards everyone

becoming familiar,

where I yearn

to be on staff,

by stepping

right out of these clouds,

past the tarp

and the unchecked clipboard,

and handing you a bowl

of how I feel

life should be

giving as living . . .