F L O W

When life fails to fit into the neatness of a world fraught with ocd tendencies we can become ensconced in its conspiracy and unable to turn away from the sense that our thoughts and actions are dirty or that our hands inadequate for holding until repeatedly scrubbed in the basins of false projection where our truths are washed away and dried in the comfort of checking our watches or phones for our next indoctrination indifferent to the fact that all timing is divine timing even as we use an infinite source to cage our finite beliefs, fears and persistent sense of hopelessness as structured upon the backdrop of a false reality.

Every barrier that exists has been constructed by minds that build facades to contain rage until a level of overt helplessness has been reached at which point they have us in their grasps, when we see no way out from what exists beyond sight, no way of cover without their misshapen windows and roofs and no way of love without the false profession of theirs even as they hand us the needle that returns us to sleep.

The expression of love does not wait nor does it hide behind door number three or dress up as a fool burrowed in pile two of a tarot reader’s pick a card fantasy interpretations, no more than truth sits on sidelines and waiting to come up to bat only when the opposing team strikes out.  

Truth does not stiffen no matter how long it sits without exercise or conditioning and Love refuses suffocation and containment as it burns with and without attendance to its flames. 

It is the individual, not the divine, who chooses when to be like water and when to drink.

The Divine is the water.