My Sense as My Lens

The lens of my sense has silenced me to my own sense accepting the sense of the lens as my sense
With these lenses full of senses that are not even mine, I go around creating more lenses over senses creating new perceptions of my senses

With the new senses, I perceive the world with my senseless senses creating labels.
Labels with tables. Tables filled with my senses, tables filled with the rubble of my senses.
Not knowing the rubble I created on my tables and with these tables filled with Rubbles, I create bubbles, bubbles through which I can no longer see but live in fear to break open the bubble.

I bobble back and forth in the little bubble. The bubble “I” call life
Now I label the life called bubble as life itself, never understanding what life really is, but only perceiving life as I wanted it to be within my bubble
and I blame the nature for not being a nurture to me.

When I understand, actually understand that it is me who separated life into my own bubble filled with my rubble, I may understand my separation of life is not life, my division is not life
For where there is separation, there is always a control over one another, on each other.

Is controlling each other, manipulating one another to satisfy my own individual wants, wants made of rubble in my bubble called Life?
Not knowing that I don’t know, will I come to know about life, life beyond these lenses, senses beyond these lenses?

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Sense And Nonsense

Blinded by my senses
Minded by my senses
Binded by my senses
Bounded to my senses

Grinded by my senses
Reprimanded by my senses
I roam the streets of sorrows
As a prisoner of my own shadows

Shadows of my perception
Shadows of my deception, of my own deceptive conceptions, making them my own inceptions
Inception of my senses as my fences
And my fences as my stances

Confronted by my senses
Confined to my senses
And defunct of my own senses
All I sense is another sense to sense the sense of my sense

With my narrow sense of the sense, I borrow another sense to tense my sense
With a sense so intense, I loose my sense to sense, making another sense my sense to make sense of my sense
With this new sense that I call my sense, I become a nuisance

And maybe when I actually become a nuisance to the nuisance
I may sense the nuisance of my sense and the very nuisance of the nuisance
Maybe then, I may realize that I have no Sense and I am no sense making sense of non sense with my sense that has no sense and yet is a sense of the very Non Sense.

A non sense of the non sense to the non sense with no sense or non Sense.

Blindly
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