rooms

Sometimes there’s a lot in me. 
To say. To be. To feel. 
To breathe into. To cry about. 
To listen to. To open to. 
To close to. To allow. To reject. 
To embrace. To show. To reveal. 
To uncover. To abandon. To connect to. 
To be with. To engage around. 
To commune with. To come closer to. 
To cover. To understand. To be curious about. 
To ignite. To charge towards. 
To back away from. 
There’s a lot in me. 
Many different terrains that are longing to be discovered in order to give me something more than there is in the many various rooms that I've encountered so far. 
(Rooms) inside the metaphor of a house, but also gently  expanding that language into something broader. 
Something freer. 
Something that feels (more than this) in a specific way. 
That feels more open than I remember. 
I am happy to announce that I am open to the process of being a person of true being. 
Someone who exists inside the varied contexts that approximate the human experience and walks between the worlds of the time bound, passing story and that place from which all that can be has already happened. 
The one who knows the beginning from the end. 
The fabric of creation bending back and overlapping into paradox. 
The covering and the uncovering. 
The truth that nothing is ever actually nothing. 
Another way of saying that everything is in some way, (when it’s brought close and broken down into small enough pieces), is actually everything else. 
Pulsing and teeming atoms, moving around lickity-split. 
Movement. 
The changes that come to pass within the construct of language as it flows through time. 
Emerging and fluid. 
Covering the ages that have passed, rooms in the house dismantled and reconstructed as language keeps moving. 
Poetic and stark. 
Sheer and blunt. 
A cacophony of memory.
At some point in the process there emerged a violent colonization of the mind. 
A violent colonization of the body. 
A violent colonization of language. 
So impoverished in paradise. 
Trying to find a true friend.
Oftentimes afraid to risk the process of rejection for the possibility of vital resonance. 
A poverty of connection that we don’t always realize. 
As if life was meant to be spent working to survive inside a system that was built for the lavish opulence of privileged people. 
A pyramid scheme in a trench coat posing as liberation. 
We still have our birthright and if I quiet down enough inside I hear it. 
I hear the sound of that peace. 
The heart is a law unto itself. 
Written in flesh and blood and the tactile experience of this.  
Remembered by that which exists beyond the (room) of time. 
I love to see you liberated. 
I love to see you whole. 
I love to see you free. 
It’s enough to open your heart right here.
Decolonize existence.