The lost place is somewhere in the mists of metaphor
somewhere laden with memory
a place that is imprinted by images from the world in the earth place the birth place
gilded by growing consciousness before language within the development of language
prelude to the categorization of shapes and colors and smells and sounds and touches and tastes categories wordless uncategorized things blob wordless strokes and strikes
keeping time setting borders enclosing the firm firmament terra firma ground upon which to grow but in the mind
can’t be lost something lost what is lost is the open wordless so that it doesn’t feel lost because it doesn’t feel the need to be grabbed groped taken owned registered made developed shaped structured open beyond the conscious moment when the hill is climbed and the eyes open wide to see the vastness and cry to the vapor
rally its molecules its atoms dance nothing takes hold of it it just is no “it” involved
how can you make me die so well in the night after senses fail me
I love beyond the specific compartment of love
it just is
a spherical warmth holding making but not made not settled floating possible always possible
how can anyone want to sit in a hardened still place a shard a sharp place
perched drilled pitted nailed solid place when floating dissolving lightens
buoying blown wind blown no muscle hardened force just is always is but
could be could be could be
how is could be in its possibility
could be or should be
no intention to could be
just possibility
only wishes control in should be
the should is not forward
it’s regret it’s angry wishing
I have transformed my shoulds to will will be it will be done but harm none
the act of selection existence initiation of a goal a quest a calling
the framing of something
is always a violence in some way maybe a tiny one but violent all the same
how can self be developed without tiny violences
how child of self assertion is offspring born of fighting against other forces which might be fighting for a greater good
this is why the self is yoked to the great self of society
we are only as good as our communities
so we have failed the World Polis
we have failed
walking into the light takes a gathering of purpose that causes floating to recede into the borders of perception
you can’t be you without the projections of others
anger is the home of selves drenched in opposing perceptions
so the tools for surviving self is in the crafting of moments in time and space
words crafted in living psyches
total life concentrated into deep meaning lived shared full of purpose
no moment thrown away
no phrase forgotten
no generalization
no piecemeal
NOTHING OR ALL
but just enough light and floating not hard not muscle clench
lifted buoyant floating still self-held in a knowing
but free light waiting receptive perceptive receptive holding allowing
shining forth love to all
to be wholly oneself
to allow all to be wholly themselves
dancing
listening
seeing
holding
not holding
soft light
balance
a relaxed focus
if all could be the open and ready actor stepping onto the stage to serve humankind, the world will thrive – Paradise Found.
-(C) Janet Bentley, 2018
Janeturgy 