Clear Seeing

The most informative of our master teachers, our emotions

Are marked by transience

Defined by

Flux.

The masters with no name

And a vague

Sense of pain

With a subtle sense of gain but to avoid

the all but

Ravaged vein of clichés

That plagues any and all forms of real feeling

That has gotten us to be so fixated on finding the meaning of the day

Before we’ve even reached evening…

I’ll leave things unpackaged.

Strewn about, coalescing and dissipating

Simultaneously

within and

without

With faith and With doubt

What is this form of expression for if not to magnify the native artistry of nature?

Why would I use all of my tools this way if not to speak to that which is

Universally felt but altogether unspoken

And inconceivable if not to speak to that

Little

void

In your chest?

The one you feel at your worst and your best.

That sometimes subtle, dormant

peephole to the soul

and other times

all consuming void that awaits us all in some form

but

doesn’t make for a great First dinner date conversation.

So far, this trip around the sun has unmade me

It has not-so-vaguely torn my shit up

Into

Pieces.

So finely.

So divinely selected and scattered

That

I couldn’t imagine the task of beginning to believe

I possessed the time and Dexterity

To even

Entertain the idea of starting to pick up

What the cosmos has compelled me

To let go of.

Even if it’s all I’ve ever known of.

This hole in my heart is my commitment to the dance

My Ring upon the hand of fate

The only one I’ve ever truly taken hold of

The wellspring from which the energy flows

That allows me to transmute and make Gold of

The nebulous gnawing at my Light and warmth

That my shadow Loves to make Cold of

Not because it hates how I choose to grow

but

Because

That’s just all it knows

Our darkness CANNOT forget

for it is often comprised of the parts of us we’ve

Forgotten

Or

Forsaken

The shades of self that we’ve mistaken

As unfit for the Gift of consciousness

Of Attention.

Of Waking.

That remains vibrantly alive like the Sun

In our unmaking.

The only way to endure the inevitable quaking

from taking in the Visage of all of your colors is

Bravely.

And Daily.

We cannot know that which we cannot see or feel

But we can feel that which transcends

Our senses.

Our concepts of knowledge.

And to do so, you must enroll in the college of your being

The university of Clear Seeing

Even if it

Appears

To be devoid of meaning

Even if after countless successful battles you find yourself

Leaning

On the Trees

barely breathing

along the way

It is far better

To fight the battle of real feeling through the day

To boldly stay staring, breathing, and being

Than to fixate on finding meaning

Before we’ve even reached

Evening.