We came from a massless world.
Not nothing at all
but without mass as existence.
Lost our way back.
Send postcards out as utterances
as if scientific minds with stamps.
Loiter as with religion.
Inadvertently discover and forget
in nanosecond intervals, not of capture.
Be the living experiment
but with inadequate frames of reference.
Stampeded with methods of preoccupation,
feature the tediousness of reductionism,
live in the impotence of understanding
and yet blessedly, most sacredly, carry on.
What if there is a continuum without boundaries?
What if knowing is just an outcast style of exile?
What if feature and distinction are distractive
and soulfully disgruntle ?
And the essential harmonics of being
are outside of our sensory experiential range?
Now what?
Well, now . . .
without the spectatorship of what!
Then the specifics of this isness has no audience.
The spectrum of being is not in any way,
resultive in
nature.
All verbs are functionary opportunists as liars.
Language only lobbies for self-absorbing myopia.
Worth, real worth, has no spectatorship into value.
Story is fashionable but an unnecessary wardrobe.
Levitation is beyond any thought-weight to conjure.
A Neutrino may have more weight than a thought does.
Go figure, is a form of enslavement.
What if all riddles were pathways to isness?
And reality is just the land of answers, not solutions . . .
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