There is this room within me,
scintillating with the silence of soul.
Sometimes waking up in the hum of it.
It is over me, through me,
as a standing wave.
I am embraced in the shimmer.
This is where what entry I’ve had,
has frame fallen away into this expansiveness.
What details there were,
were only the front face allure,
only dimensions living beyond the grasp of meaning
yet as windswept and as warm
as touch could offer me.
What sings there is as if all solids are standalones
in a choir voicing deep enormity.
This, as my now, becomes a river weave
of viscous secrets, fluid and untold
until as the isness of it speaks.
Where entries like this on me,
are always illusions presented initially
as if I’ve never been here before.
There is no part of me that ever was
for me to claim as wholly separate
from these realms entries.
All of my language, however crude and crazed
is the free fall of babblings,
from this room within me,
humbled and privileged beyond compare.
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