About not to get stuck on one thing in ma, is without question:
Your heart to fathom, as one would, from deepest chaos, to celestial bursting,
Me a spinning top, not taking advice anymore –
No understanding, philosophy discarded, only loving:
Your heart
Is my pattern flowing
An example I thought the question my instructor asked, why does there have to be a line
Down the centre of my struggling?
Then if, fighting you the line disappears, reappears again uncompassed, unsurpassed,
Always winning,
What chains me to you – one flowing thru space – but loving?
All this patterned time and thought that passes
You’d think I’d forget about you, g,
Tho, without moving thru space,
You’re pillow centred on that hospital bed made –
And then, you encompass,
Actually everywhere
Uncentred, unpatterned, unformed, model of all my portraits, the line drawn –
(What became of me? I’d ask you to shape me)
Depth of feeling in love,
Moves I to my body, even
And touches my soul, which leaps, here to there, back again, pattern in a rhythm of ma…
(I’m fighting the goddess herself)
How catch a meaning in space, but by spinning round your name in question?
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