The Weave Tightens

I celebrate and exalt
the feedback loops
that point me toward contexts
ready to receive and to witness
my brilliance unfettered.
How like the release of a dam,
my particular and true vibration can flow again,
no longer urged into inadequate and ill-fitting channels for it.
When I let go of the right attachment.
And submit once more to flow.
And gently rising accomplishment.
Exhale. Breathing easy. Smoothness.
I wish all beings could experience these.
And yes, I have a taste for such.
For the breaking free, and into fresh air
of the soul.

I am weary.
Each and together, we harbor our Griefs.
Brandice’s dad, Don, passed less than a month
from the time my stepdad Don (RIP) passed.
Followed by Marco’s dad, days later.
Ainslie and Sean are no more.
And I’m alone, been alone.
With only friends to try to share the burden.
Incompletely.

And the world becomes more burdened each day.
The world is sick and dying.
The self-aware world is drowning in panic.
It knows what is happening to it.

It is through these pressures, these churning waves, that I am alert
with hope as my light, my probing senses,
scanning and praying
for any queer little eddy, a whirlpool, a sluice
that could suck me in then

shoot me through into a different world.

May my keys unlock
the gates.
My words
align the atoms, expressing as the tides,
as though all the flesh-matter of Earth
were listening with great interest,
attention compelled to the Song
rightly singing their own name.