Desires.
One.
To slow this unstoppable desire for heat. To relax in warmth and peace, to feel steady on my feet. I am searching your eyes for the truth. I am daily letting go, it’s just taking longer than expected. But these are not your feet, this is not your seat. This is the poet’s beat, and I come here to this page intent on distinguishing fact from fiction. I don’t remember anything I’ve ever said, so distracted by the chaos in my head, chanting my fate verbatim. It is honest writing I seek, it is only honest writing I know.
Two.
To eradicate culturally-encoded values, to become mindful and aware, to see the truth beneath the veneer. To make contemplation a habitual response. Deep listening, going in further, exploring the crevices of curious things. I support an alternative method of writing, one that involves mere recording of mindbeats as they stamp circulatory trails across the mind.
Three.
Rigorous avoidance of sentiment and the obsessive paths of the brain. Man is creature of habit, woman is creature of obsession. I do not support femininity as defined by weakness, inferiority, threatening, tempting, vain, sedentary, woe-is-you.
Four.
To be relatively unremarkable; to be surrounded constantly by remarkable people. To actively engage in the business of life. This is fantastically uninteresting. How did I get here? Reflecting on desire indeed! I need to be busy I believe to be happy at all. Preposterous. Oh, salubrious. Picture yourself a homeowner. Ludicrous. Ridiculous. I will be a student. Discomfort is sharp and pointy.
While “one-heartedness” is celebrated in Bwiti, it is a one-heartedness which is coagulated out of a flow of many qualities from one state to another. It is goodness in the presence of badness, and aboveness achieved in the presence of belowness. Is is an emergent quality energized in the presence of its opposite.
A half-life of boredom and half-empty cups. I think not. Not this instant when I cannot ask for more nor for anything else. Wait a second, this is just everything ever asked for! What is it you’re thinking of right before you fall asleep at night? What mysteries are locked in dreams?
And the tender tissues of the heart swell with the blood of tears. As such, we cannot help but be utterly terrified. Let us then work relentlessly on the tiresome task of learning to not-need, that we may one day be free of desire. May we first learn the value of play, and come to know it before we grow old too early. I leave deathly stillness standing at the altar, compose silent adulations of strength, and make believe I hear the
(beat)
trickling down the wall.
I want to put a bounce in your step as you walk out the front door in the mornings. I yearn for the simplest of small affections. Your are manic and fired, all-engrossing. I am standing wide-eyed in the middle of the road as a storm barrels down. I do not fear death, just the absence of life. The difference between birds and bees lies in the sting. How to make each other well? How many ways do I adore you? The only answer I have to give is “like this, and infinite”. And I am feeling infinite.
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