4 Dozen

Holding off has never been so easy.
And yet, it is as it has always been.
Restrained.
Buckled to my senses, to my nonsenses
Merged in unity since before my own opinion
Existed. Formed. Feigned.
How relevant have I made the wrong
Bare-knuckling my own breast
As if it were natural.
And it was, because it had been
Born that way before any notion of self
Was in the cards.

Generational. Coarse ground energies
Eaten in a circle, shit out and sprouted
Eaten again.
Patterns of breathing have evolved
Into nothing but what they came here to do
Destructive when that trauma and Egocentric world
Propagated.
Intensities mix. Intention, inconsequential.
The Lords of handed-down disorder
Ruling yet with leather-fisted indulgence.
Too thick they filled the wounded groove
Of who they inflicted in lives previous.

Cringing. Stimulated by revelations
That I have owned and owned and owned.
Goodness palpitates everywhere,
Blocked by blurred vision, enhanced by
Useless devotion.
Organic medleys linger, making use of any moment
Hint... interest, attentive and caring.
Empathy, magnetic..sincere...willing
These free and beautiful utilities
Open to practice and pungent;
Direct in their giving, their loving, their lift
Unconditional, as it were- to the fullest.

The new waves lap against me each day
Filling blessed moments with sunlight and
Gorgeous intention...
Teaching the elder of how the young love lives
With no effort; strong, amazing, thorough and free.
They are mine, and yielded in the soil I mixed
Pumping laughter and unkempt silliness
Minus the burden of heavy laden miseries.
In decency, in wholesomeness, they lavish my life.
By default I love more than each day before with ease
This enigma of bliss and ache,
So carefully balanced.