Weaving, you are woven

Whether or not you deny
the interconnectedness of each thread,
whether or not you choose
to consciously
weave yourself,
you can always find
the egoless id reflected back
in the pupil of every I.

Microcosmically linked
in the macro of things.
The unfractured fractal
spirals endlessly,
the never ending sketch
in which pencil never strays
from page,
as each
are one in the same.

When expansion swallows
the contraction of itself,
what is left

but cyclical origami –
the unfolding of the folding
of the exhaled breath.

We tremble in fear of
the unknown,
We cling to the concept of static,
The unchanging God,
an arrested development.

The photo of a  moment,
 captured and held hostage
by the intellect.

Even when we are standing still
we are moving,
hurtling through space

 Seasick from the fluctuations,
from the imbalance
of the external madness.

Tune your tides to the
universal frequencies.
Crest on the waves
of harmony —

Existence in the naked
awareness of
the you in everything

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