Your life will take its reading from you.
If you have in your heart that this life is for freedom,not only this life but this moment itself is for freedom—then your life will unfold accordingly.
My reading is losing its definitions to its rambling.
Speedometer reading chaos vacillating hyper-rapid eye movement.
No rest, no remedy, no continuity.
My heart beats without direction, slows from tar lungs
expressing their discomfort with breathing,
beats without direction.
To orient towards freedom seems impossible.
Not only in this moment but each preceding and following.
Life will unfold accordingly
-- to what?
according
-- to whom?
I fear this accumulation of anxiety.
Wonder at the gratitude and
bliss of moments between
scarcity of spirit
disillusionment of meaning.
How much more chaotic can one's mind be
when its reading has lost itself in the defining of itself.
Why does the caged bird sing? Some people know why.
Yet I am uncaged, "FREE", and do not sing.
Not free, really, trapped behind the bars of psyche.
Not trapped, really, the bars of psyche,
constructs of the mind entrapping itself.
Where is your heart in this life?
Mine is still beating.
Looking for a direction.
Mine is still beating.
Waiting to find its definition.
Mine is still beating.
In spite of its entrapment
by my own self-induced
chaos.
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