In the land of our feelings

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It’s tempting but dangerous
to seek safe harbor
from life’s oceanstorm
to seek and reach for anchor.

Anchors sink, or at best they hold
and placing your weight on them
ties your fate to theirs.

You might think, ‘that
will make me happy,’ or
‘this makes me sad.’

When it’s quiet, in Nirvana
we sleep, or lie awake wondering
why we can’t sleep. Thinking, ‘Maybe it’s
too quiet.’ Thinking ‘Maybe we are too tired.’
Maybe if we try harder, or drink tea…
We rarely see, Samsara,

the thinking is the obstacle to peace.

So you desire, chase, acquire, cling, lose, and mourn.

And what’s left is you, born again, (but before long bored to sin)
left alone to reflect and recalibrate, happy, or sometimes sad but okay.
Until we convince ourselves we aren’t okay anymore
and go off chasing something (but really just running away from ourselves) again.

In the land of our feelings,
homeostasis includes the occasional
uprising, or repressed long enough,
revolution.

Repeating the same action and
expecting a different result,
I wake up again and try to be me
exploring my insanity,
I was born perfect
taught to be guarded
taught fear

One thing the world makes clear
to anyone paying attention at all
we are very small
This verysmallness is so extreme,
we invent sciences just to describe how glaringly irrelevant any of us really is.
And now we have obtuse, less depressing
ways to say ‘we’re small.’
13,900,000,000 years this shit’s gone on.
the silence of our existence is so intense,
we’re led at least to madness
if not violence
creating power imbalances between
us and them, dividing us into her and him, but really only ever me and you.
“I am but you’re not.” or
“You are, but I’m not.”
We all aren’t
perfect yet, but
we all want to be.
Individuating like siamese twins
separation causes such shared wounds
I am not responsible for you
We all do the work of healing ourselves

I trust your work is yours to define
even if it interferes with mine
forgive me if my process
hurts you
I am just
waking up again.

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