without the need 12/9/14

Sometimes there are stall-point moments,

almost like the soft shock of coming out of a coma.

There is an undetermined frenzy

of floor/wall brickwork forward addressing me.

I am in-phase in a vertigo response.

I am separate from all of this

and my awareness is of that part of me

that does not take to this form to represent me.

Even a part of me that is deeper than that

looks very carefully at this part

which monitors and addresses for me.

From there, I have a view.

It does not search to be in sync with the rest of me.

Oh it has in the past, even the recent past.

But for now, my focus

although reflective of all of this, goes inward.

First there is a mountain in my mind.

Then, I am that mountain in mind.

It presents in the phase way

symbols to the mind’s eye present.

That is, until it is inward and enveloping.

The mountain is sage and ageless.

It is not a learning situation.

It just is and of me.

For all the surface that initially impresses,

I have no interest.

I am drawn to some synesthesia method of presence. 

Somewhere higher up, there is a view outwards

only to display an entrance.

Behind that small and low entry,

there is a cavern with high-hallowed interior

and captivating stall-point plumage

as well as sound enhancing unto it enveloping self.

It is chamber-like in that way.

There is air that breathes me in here.

Unavoidably there is a flame, a single flame

that provides and guides me.

Even my lungs are my eyes now.

Soon the cave itself is a wardrobe of comfort around me. 

Rustic and primitive have become calmness

with purity addressing me.

The flame itself has named me in wordless ways.

I have no need for knowingness to be my receptors.

The exchanges that come are not in inward conversations 

or dialogues sent in my direction.

There is the simplest of expansions-to-include occurring.

I am no larger but more expanded.

I am less of conclusions bundled

and more a fullness present.

This flame has no exterior.

It burns from yearning and nothing more.

It reaches out with light in all directions.

I am in audience to sense that of the light is living. 

Experience itself has made the mountain for real.

It takes time to live into that metaphorically.

We have morsel lives served on lifetime plates.

Yes, it is always and in all ways a feast.

But what it is to honor more that that of itself?

This mountain exists in the form of answers.

If I leave all the wherewithal of answers,

then the mountain is gone.

And the flame of itself ceases to be

the prejudice of light imposing.

And the stall-point moments becomes admittance.

Just be part of everything in form and formlessness.

Be of the oneness embrace

until there is no force, no pressure.

Just seamless connectivity

without the need of claim . . .