A Formless Me

A formless Me, forming me from the dormant me, a storm of me
For a new norm of me, swarming me, deforming me, transforming me to reform me
for I am just a free form

My destiny unseen, My nature unseen and My Journey unknown
so why be an attorney or play this tourney
For maybe, my path is that of the thorny

Each thorn picking out the nectar in me, each sector in me, the very protector in me
To warn me, to be born in me, to reborn within me,
to quench me, to drench me, to bench me
to storm the trench in me, to reform the thirst in me

I am neither thirsty nor testy
I am neither warm nor the norm
I am neither the thorn nor that of the worn by the thorn

The worry is of the body, the body’s mind
the fear, the near, the steer, the dear, the smear, each is that of the body mind, the body’s minds grind
The grind is a rat race when I have a face for the race, for a space, for a trace of the grace and disgrace

I let not the body hold me a prisoner, prisoner shackled with its treasury memories, fed by the exemplary stories of the fairies
For I may be the frontier, the light year, that chandelier, that spear that lights up the heights of my mind
And yet, I am neither the light nor the height,
Neither the frontier nor the interior are me, they are the me of the body’s me

So I be free, let the body be free, let the mind of this body be free, free of its own sweet pain and gain
I let me embrace, embrace the birth place
The birth place of the space, the face
For I have no face, no space, no trace of this interface

And I maybe, neither the form, nor the formless
neither time nor timeless
neither the One nor the None

For I roam on the wings of time, into the abyss of space, with the knotless thought

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