To begin, we close the books of our lives… we lose ourselves for a moment…
to contemplate what the dance might be if we were free from our contingencies…
and so we start in awkward step, imaginary, line by line… changing ourselves
one step at a time so that we might find a balance in the derivative of our
psyches… a parallel in the essence of our appearances… insofar as they might
claim a metaphorical representation of ourselves…
And after some time in the deconstructive conflict, the steps move the
imagination to present itself and we find ourselves again outpouring the
intricacies of our being… what it is that makes us tick… and listening for a
resonance so that we might move into the lead… mesmerized of ourselves in the
eyes of other… as a full disclosure is selfless indeed and there is no reason
for some other to perceive thy nuances in fair light, rather only the belief in
aura must we cultivate night and day… and breathe…
We cease our conversation… we move now to the time of a silence that
beckons to touch upon the seas of thought within… a tiptoe on the delicacies of
our peeling emulsions… leaning on each other and unraveling… tied to the core
of empty gaze… mesmerized… the mystery of other… without a word to break the
silence of our understanding… sensual… curving deep and leaning in and pressing
to conception of a thought… an allosensual creativity… blending the difference
of other into a tapestry of self… a little death…
And thinking quite aloud… then what love must we begin… over and on over to
the other side the phone… words just beckoning the abyss… and nothing even
there… and still in love… with nothing… but still in love, always… taking upon
ourselves a disseminating ring.
Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com
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