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.