SOMETHING INEFABLE

Strange to feel permeated by something ineffable, misty rain of life that does not need density to exist, wanting to grasp, while knowing any effort is useless, it will destroy the very essence of its preciousness.

I stand in this love. This flame within alive, not as desire reaching for what is external, but as intuition in inner suspension existing before facts. Tingling anticipation, that senses the flower opening and releasing its scent in freshness.

This sensitivity is certainty, yet absolute pause that doesn't contain any action. It is the stillness of dawn, mixed colors that contain night and day. I ask this shivering to take me on its wings, as it does not walk barefoot on the ground, but suddenly lift itself from gravity and transports the body to another realm of unreal colors. Ah! Strange that I can see these nuances and nobody else seems to notice.

The only relaxation possible in the imminence of its power is surrender. Allowing my body to become lighter and lighter, so it can be lifted effortlessly. I dislike cliché words. So, cross out surrender while I try to find another expression.

Can I let life open all the pores in my skin, burning all resistance to its transparence in a way that all my organs become visible, from outside-in? It makes me smile seeing my heart pumping blood without the wrap around flesh, my stomach discerning food according to its own fire, my lungs expand with more oxygen.

It is painful to resist this transparency, when I am hesitant to feel the realness of aloneness through this love. Yet, there is nothing else worth living for. Only mad poetry can scribble sensitivity that is as real as gold and diamonds, though intangible to most eyes and hands.