We are
our word
to each other.
—
Who you are inside will forever be a mystery to all.
All but yourself (by the power of self-awareness)
and even that’s an incomplete understanding.
Influences that you’ve trained yourself to collect
and your method, too, for harvesting good
may forever be obscured.
They were not there. They could not know.
You’ve sought after something at the edge of what is
humanly possible, all these years:
total Realness, Realness as perpetual scouring
application, of idea-patterns like dead skin cells
that no longer serve, the tender fresh skin
hearty yet raw, meeting the day.
Realness, you’d later say, as Medicine.
However,
it is the mystery that is each of us
to one another, that must be meaningfully
worked with. Worth it.
The choices ride the Real.
The Real does not constitute the choices.
The choices are creative. Interpretive.
And this is one of the meanings of the lesson of Blending.
How to live with the reality
that you are only a glimpse to another.
How to curate the impressions made
for the sake of our liberation.
The Word we are is not the words they are likely to hear,
due to refraction. Our shouts rendered mere murmurings.
Yet each being follows its own nature. Non-ado.
The Process is holy.
Let and disallow
your essence, their connection
to become more salient
as it will.