Everything,
is nothingness.
If I live in my altar, the sanctity is gone.
The functions I perform, neither one exclusively.
Pure and Grotesque.
Detached,
Anchored.
Baptized and Tainted.
To want to be all encompasing,
consuming,
toxic.
Red flags above my waters.
Desiring too hard that nothing ever can reach the standards by which it measures.
Becoming unsustainable.
Absoluteness becomes egoic and the illusion of connection restricted by falseness.
If love is to be true,
there is no fixed attachment,
no desire to want to uphold authoritarian practices.
What I understand,
only after I meditate,
the treasure of a love that is too precious to contain.
The fear dissolves, greater is the bond.
Easing into connection,
letting go of tomorrow.
The hope for a future is not a sentence.
There is freedom in not holding it all,
running wild,
the feeling is what we have,
today is what we make it—
Sounding poetic.
Risking my tenderness.
No matter how hard.
Do not try to hoard,
at least try to trust.
Obsolete it becomes,
when control dominates over love.
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