the labor of content * 12/5/13

What beings were we before the labor of content?

Were we all born outliers?

Were we all blessedly pre-occupational at birth?

Only to succumb to the onslaught

of understanding’s myopia?

To become unavoidably prejudicial

in a Machiavellian sort of way?

I don’t want my origin back as reminiscence.

I want the full spectrum,

even from before birth, clearly conscious.

The inner dialogues, in both mind and heart

from being in the womb.

The confounding conundrums of both parents

laid out before and within me.

Why should any one of us have to struggle

within each of their parental paradigms

that have vexed them to us?

I am not saying decode but heart to heart

as a wisdom of being to being.

Thought, for now, is a fill of inner movie screen

results, where my feelings, in an original sense,

are heart dialogues without the compress of time.

I am out of balance in a content driven world.

I am under-dimensionalized and over objectified,

even to myself!

I am like bottled water

without valid ocean recollection.

I get energy postcards from essence as home,

sent to me spontaneously daily.

Though slightly illegible but I am the one

who is distant traveling!

Content, as a means, is foreign.

Location is a hoax.

I am exiled in a prison without walls.

But task and tedium are the labor,

as engagement is entrainment without end.

For me, as for all of us,

content is a flat screen existence.

I am a curator at a soulless exhibition

of a one primary person animated show.

There is code, somehow buried within.

Something between our shared shows

has inference and a richer dimensional life.

So can we loose the content as center stage

and just be without audience, recognition’s curse,

or doing’s perpetual spotlight?

Just be the beings we each are, into oneness?