Beyond what I think before words come 11/24/15

Beyond what I think before words come;

spacial from unnameable extraterrestrial pheromones,

unboundaried but anonymously perceived,

yet victimized into innocence towards their particulars.

Sensing, sent out on recognition’s search

but while they are all still unnamed,

vast as sooth hands are fully heart comforting

as an intimacy without specifics in residence

to envelope as in experiential engorgement.

Where I am light, light teases through me

without understanding as my religion.

But my body presumes itself as a palate,

as a liaison yet bound to lead me back to words.

There is no real comfort zone with recognition.

This holy grasp has no grip-conversion into words.

Tactiles have no surface for contact’s sake.

Breath may only be a lobbyist towards

identification’s false glory.

Once removed from there,

I only come back into story,

for gender, circumstance, and account.

What to think from there is not invited nor involved.

Symbology has not yet been born there.

Neither is linear mind an outcry of need.

Think itself agrees to terms

but these are not realm-mentionable.

I leave the displacement of experience

as this lip service of the mind

is never to make this journey.

The heart of oneness is realized there without knowing.

No, not the consciousness of relate-ability

but a connectivity without separate parts to parse.

Distinction has not been invented as a means.

Feel takes up a voice beyond lifelike presence.

This feel has no time devotion to it.

It lives in the preface of a dimension

never brought to words.

What is written into think is dis-associative by nature.

There, there is no mood for self-consciousness to attend.

There, there is an indifference to specificity and need.

Both are dysfunctional as burdensome towards cause.

The void’s abundant, immersive, and endowed.

If I go there with intention then think emerges.

Words do come by as day old crumbs, thereafter.

I go there where empty is full and blessed.

It is of an overflow and sacred,

that never-ever, reverts back

or really comes into words . . .