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Thursday, August 8, 2013

thought's content is stone * 8/8/13


Oppressive cobblestones of thought
before my mind, in passing.   
Mindfulness, crawling forward,    
laboring stone after stone,    
upon handling's hands and knees
of attention’s call.    
This sameness of the grip
everywhere there is contact   
is eventually only callousness meeting stone.    
My journey is broken down    
with every mind appendage’s touch.   
This is unfulfilling thoughtfulness.
I experience all of stone's content
of barrenness at a crawl.
Yet, without handling's expectations
and preoccupations, stone upon stone
questions me:
From where within you
does your grip express?    
Why do you have stone represent you?    
Each stone relates to me
how stone knows of me by grip signature.   
Asks me, where in stone do I think inspiration
will make a response.    
Asks me, who of stone
will reflect for me,
from a deeper source within me. 
From where in stone, could I hear such things
said to me in this kind of dialogue?    
If I forgive repetition's stone face,
I come upon all of my life
as a backdrop rock quarry,
exposed as these dialogues
having always been in process,   
yet I only came to claim, as mind of stone.    
I have identified with stone as fact,
as measures of life,    
operationalized by stone action    
contextualized by stone history.    
I have fashioned my mind
out of some severe stone acuity.    
I became a broker of stone sense.    
This stone is by thought, yet dialogues inside me.    
Voices that do not say it with articulated meaning.    
Voices that do not provide me with accessible words.    
Deliveries come without expectancy    
yet undisclosed in meaning's presence.    
Dialogues I have dismissed
beneath understanding's directedness,                                                                             
as familiarity's hardenness proceeded,    
before that cobblestone effect,
now amnesia-like, away from definitives' creep
yet reflections that an aliveness their stone embrace.    
There is a place inside me
where stones have gathered
and dialogues abound now as a roar overheard.    
I allow myself an eavesdropped position
and candid internal response abound,    
offering a journey's worth of cobblestones
as gratefulness.   
Where stone has become my effort's amplitude
and dialogue effortlessly, their say.    
Now is where I take leave
from stones' crawl, broken open 
to enter into this dialogue's play . . .

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