Emotional fixations,
however complete and concealed,
still always discreetly seek the light
as method for living
becomes a sacred means.
But still, initiation seduces,
mercy drags on
and justice positions and vexes.
The exploration of futility
and the isolation
of first person enterprise
provide for deeper insights
with persistence, to eventually come.
And then, resolve arrives,
while permission toils
and pronouncement
as mindfulness, panders.
The world obliges
with compliments as handouts.
Any language bends and spins it.
There are clever burdens to bare
with parasitic tendencies
to convolute any forthcoming joy.
A demanding beaver of burden
chews on the buffet of gibberish
and subsequently dies
as the path taken
once again provides
some sense of self-demise.
An unsettled mind is a flashy talent
across this emotional drum,
never to diminish the beat,
never to muffle it
or to go tone deaf.
In fact, there is a deep chamber
of being
no lover can demand entry into.
For the hand
that incessantly slaps in resistance
to the ever-change of things
is a disturbed emissary of suffering.
And the tension produced
becomes a constricting executioner.
The spotlight of any of this
will show the contradictions
mastered in the hard living
to climb this ladder.
An addictive irrational thirst
for the light, yet unseen,
applauds by the effort taken.
Even an initial disgusting form
of self-exile
can oblige a simple radiance
to come out
and that is where
the love will come from
to become the flowing forth.
This death and rebirth
has no formalisms,
without deeper implications,
without insider information,
without a will call booth,
and a trickle-down of soul-expanse.
We each are the documentary.
We each are radiant providers
who swear not to know of our actions.
We are all slaves beyond
the majestic ritual of choice
but this journey's worth denies it,
in order for it
to be,
so profoundly true . . .
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