Perception of Love

Many times I define love, many times I deny everything other than love
I speak of the love as the only one, for I have none to match the one I call, the one.

I say to my girlfriend/wife that I love you but then, I dint even know you existed few months ago, few years ago, few decades ago
I say I never know what love is until I met you
Do I say that because I have defined love as the absence of love and now I define love as the absence of that absence of that which I defined myself as love
I wonder if that is love

A mother says to her son, I love you, but the mother doesn’t even know the son until she conceived the son/daughter, who was this son/daughter before then, where was the love before?
So, Is love that develops with progression of time, experience and memory?
Is love that comes and goes as I will and wish?, Is that Love?
Rather than condemn this thought, I must consider it!

Is it possible that I define and speak of love as if it is the very life itself, a life that contains all of this illusion of perception of this and that
So as to make me feel secure and keep my illusion of security and comfort going,
So I am intoxicated in this illusion of mine and never to wake up to question my perception of love?

Do I speak of love so I can keep a lock on love
Lock on all that speak of love?
Maybe this is why I don’t want you to change, nor question myself, for then, I don’t have to change because the you don’t have to change.
Maybe, this is why I am so attached to my labels of my race, my country, my religion etc. in my every act and in my every thought I think
May be this why I encourage you to speak of them as well, divide yourself from me as well so we can divide ourselves and I don’t have to change or give up that which I hold on to, cling on to
is this love?
If this is love, then I wonder if this is actually the attachment to the experience of the mind and the memory developed from that experience

When all else fails to satisfy my clinging, my dinging of what I hold on to, I say, love cannot be defined, it must be felt
Forgetting that I am still defining love by un-defining love, in feeling love.

When I cut open my skull, I see no thoughts of hate or love. I cut open my heart, I see no sign of love, so where is this so called love?

Maybe, rather than asking what is love, for that only shows the quality of love
I ask myself “why” do I feel certain way when I “think” of hate or when I “think” that I am in love or I am loved?
Where is this perception of mine coming from?, Is it from this body?, Is it from the others body? And when the other ceases to exist first in my thought, what is happens to love?

Will I then be able to understand/feel for myself, the actuality of that which is happening within me, the awareness of me that I call me
Maybe then, I can no longer hide behind the words or the illusion of my own perceptions and its security/comfort both mentally and physically.

And maybe then I am naked, “COMPLETELY” naked inside out.

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Thought, Knot & Not

A thought is only a thought with no act to the thought
But when a thought becomes an act, the act has its own thought to influence the thought and thus another act, another thought
For the act involves the others act of the others thought

With two acts creating two thoughts influencing the thought, creates a new act of the thought which I never thought I would act
May be such is the nature of the thought

I wonder if there is such a thought as a primordial thought, a fundamental thought
For the thought of the act and the thought from the act is the very act itself creating another thought, another act

I wonder where this thought comes from
Only to realize that the thought of the thought is another thought transforming the thought

With no thought to thought and the very thought to thought
I make up the thought
I wake up the thought
I rake up the thought
And I speak of the thought
For the thought of I and I of the thought to the thought has no thought to think of the thought

So I look not for the face
For the face is a trace of the mask of the eye
The eye that has dyed itself to another eye, another I, another thought

I Look not for the space of the thought nor the pace of the thought
For both the space and the pace is another thought hiding behind the thought

I Look not for the quality of the thought
For the quality has no equality and is only of a locality that makes up its own actuality but not the reality

Just like, seasons may come, seasons may go
reasons may come, reasons may go
For the season has no reason for treason to another season

Same way, thoughts may come, thoughts may go
For the thought that is sought, is the one that becomes a KNOT and a NOT

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Skin

Skin as my Title, I hide behind its subtitle
Skin as my vital, I became its recital
Skin as my entitle, for I feel so belittle

Skin as my mask and skin as my cask
Skin as my task and skin as my daily flask
Skin as my fin and skin as my kin
And skin as my bin and the very cause of my akin

I flip and flap in the skin for the skin
With the mind of my skin and bind of my skin
In skins I nap, through skins I tap

Skins I feel, in skins I reel
Skins I appeal, for skins I seal
And in skins sins, I deal

My Skin is only that which I take, that which I make, and that which I rake
Skin misrepresents and does not represent
For the skin is temporary, is a memory but not exemplary

So, I must peel the skin, heal the kin
Feel the akin and deal with the breaking
For I am not just a skin

Let the skin not decide on the brother or sister
Let the skin not decide on the hate or mate
And Let the skin not decide on my fate

Let the mind be free of the skin, free of the kin of the skin
Let the thought be not of the skin or the akin of the skin
Let the mind, see the mind behind the mind, so the skin is no longer its bind

For the MIND that is FREE, is like a TREE that is FREE

Temporary

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Human & Numen

A human needs no high-rises nor 10 bed townhomes
A human body needs a shelter within nature, within the nature of nature

A human needs no company of a companion
A human needs to accompany the mind of the human

A human needs no security of tomorrow
A human needs to scrutinize the human mind of today

A human needs no fort of comfort
A human needs to get to know the confinement of the comfortable mind

A human needs no needs of the wants to haunt
A human needs to daunt the wants of the needs

A human needs no free will nor the free will of choice
A human needs freedom, from free will and free will of choice
Freedom, from my own known voice

Freedom is not a dome that it is confined to but maybe is the home that has no dome
Freedom is not in the blame of the other nor in the acceptance of the other, but in neither

Freedom is not in the experience of the yesterday nor the repetition of the memory of the yesterday but maybe in the birth of the awareness of today

Freedom is not in the labels, not on the tables of the labels, nor in the fables of the labels
But maybe, in the unlabeled, in the un-tabled, within the un-fabled

Freedom is not in the confinements and conditions of hate or love, chaos or peace, for both are simply refined confinements, refined conditions
However refined the confinement, The refined, is only as fine as its confinement
But maybe in that which is neither confined/refined nor conditioned

Thus, a mind that is unexplored beyond its confinements, beyond its own known refinements,
is a mind that is unexamined

For a human that is free is like a numen and a lumen that know of no numen or lumen
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Freedom from Self

To be FREE, is to be free from the self
To be Free from the self, is to need no self
To need no self is to heed no self

To heed no self is to need no shelf
To need no shelf is to claim no self

No self as myself and no shelf as my shelf
For every self, is another hail for help
Hail for help from the self i call my self

With no self to call my self as myself, i may come upon that which is no self
And when i come upon that which is no self, there is neither the I to know that which is nor that which is, to the I
Here, may be here, no where near here, i may come across that which is different, entirely different

For everything i write of the unknown is a lie
Every word i speak of the unknown is a lie
And every thought i think of the unknown is a lie

For i may use words to silence the words
Thoughts to silence the thoughts
And never that which is neither, for each other is another tether to one another

When i realize that there is no other
When i actualize with no other
When i materialize with none another

Maybe then, i may come across that which is the absence of another, absence of another in its totality, in its entirety, in every possible eternity
With no other for another, here i wonder……