Does essence always have surface?
Am I a preemptive knock on that door?
Do I, of necessity, bring my audience perspective along?
Is it ever not like identifying a fragrance
or the name of ingredients to a subtle blend of tea?
Why am I, in all ways, finding myself as coming on?
Essence does not have to be form-bound to be.
Maybe essence is everywhere as of all things
and I have chosen an outlier way of relatedness.
I feel trapped in the ‘it’ or ‘thing’ transport into
meaning.
My evolution seems circuitous,
circumventive out of a plague of needs.
Is experience, in the way we do it, vexed to the finding?
All I need to sense is confluence,
possibly not even convergence with all of its parts.
Maybe “flow” is a last remark I would make upon arrival.
But I am not intending to say that it is a ‘there’ place to
be.
It may be all well and good as is,
as the is of everywhere.
And I am still, as ponder us . . .
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