10.15.11

I saw you in my visualization, in my imagination, on a horizontal plane, arched a bit, in the distance and then near. Sunlight warmth, or of another star, cascaded over my face, closed eyes and hidden smile, I saw you, elegant silhouette, reluctant sphere of inevitability, love and tenderness, talent and regret, knowing it’s wrong, knowing it doesn’t matter.

Singing, for hours, sweat and vibrating floor. Thinking of you only once or maybe three times… And thinking of another, the movements of the violin player’s arm, hand, face turned in profile, dark skin and discernible aura so vivid and musical and enchanting, just the way I’ve always loved and preferred.

Nothing to make of these sensations. Adding them to already boiling emotion and passion for that which I cannot name, that which has no word yet assigned to it. That which is no entity, no invention, no discovery. That which is a solution not yet configured to a question not yet asked. An un-posed hypothetical situation, an anti-situation. Your love. Its grace. Beautiful because it exists nowhere. Undefined. But burns without even a flicker, constant and poised somewhere to the top diagonal right of my periphery, my heart’s sphere of magnetism, my echo of self, its dreams and ideas… you’re included. The unknown you. The one strong enough for me, the one stronger, the one to lead and hold me. The one to fall into, yes, it is alright to be slightly dependent, only once the strong one has been revealed. Show yourself, one day. Soon. I await, I ready myself, I prep, to be good for you, to be strong myself, to be the sorceress of only good magic and love, real love like nothing ever defined. In subjective time.

And what of my wish for our world? Dear one, to dance in it together, how do we even make sure it survives? How can it thrive? What’s going to happen, what needs to change? So many words and actions, debates ideas theories and programs to implement, but how and why does it never ever seem to make a difference, it stays the same, it worsens, it improves, it stagnates, it explodes, it rots and is reborn and the cycle is repulsing and beautiful and hopeless and too much of a mystery. Our beings. Small? Powerful? Breath and clouds. The colors of our eyes. The warmth of blood, the scents of skin and hair and exhales. Our consistency – godlike, tense, agile, strange and typical. I’m dishing words recklessly. No meaning and no through-line. My heart is neutral numb and on fire. My heart is electric with want and with release, with surrender, desire, absolution and imagination. Possibility, a dead end, and no words.

You, lover, recluse, aching soul, your feet on which ground, on which floor of which world, under which roof of how many burning stars, endlessly reflecting the sunshine in your eyes. You, stranger, desperate kitten and child. My heart contains you, my ravaged voice has claimed you. And I hold no prisoners. And I release my own self to the very redemption I sought and sought and sickened myself for. It’s been worthwhile, I’m healed, I’m getting better. Again, nonsense.

The feelings of my skin, inside. My cells, their talks and giggles. Snide rumors between joints and bones, stretching illusions, wickedness, angelic vibrations, dawn, fauna, a helicopter tour over the Amazon, and I’ll be well. With you. The one I do not even know. I’m back to pining for you. As I did when I was a child, a young teen, a mystic already then. More so sometimes than now or years previous. I dreamed such heavy vivid dreams and drew. And heard, told stories, to self and dreamland friends, svelte entities strolling through infinite deserts, purple skies and solitary buildings, screens and needles. Dreams. What other side?

This brain of mine, this particular wiring, this particular lineage, origin, history. Claim. God, claim. Take it. Me. Fill it with purpose beyond what we already manifest for ourselves and happiness… but show me how to affect something real, tangible change, help, saving… a sensation. Warm star light upon face, closed eyes, a child’s face, a sense of comfort, warmth like enveloping mother’s arms, holding. Secure. You can do this, correct? You being God? Take each child, envelop him and her.

Circumscribe each soul with warmth.

Please exhibit for us some possibility of grace. Here in this world, not hereafter, not on the cusp of another horizon, not only in imagination. Help, please, now. I stand for you. I will stand, I can. What else is needed to prepare? What do I need to know?

It’s not knowing.

It’s not words.

It’s not ideas, thoughts, or even prayers, anymore.

Simpler than you think?

Elegant.

Please help, how.

_______________________________

There’s an army of warriors,

that carries no weapons.

They’re patrolling the heavens

and the story now happens.

There’s politeness and freedom

there’s taste, smell and touch…

Where there’s sight and redemption

armies don’t suffer much.

Am I seriously meditating every night on how to save the world? Yeah, seriously. It’s a strange question to keep pondering. But there’s a solution and it’s simpler than I think, right? And it’s not just my internal world and my confidence and awareness. Something is passing through me?

Vessel.