I sit and try desperately, not desperate but  aware of the promised connection that I so freely dismiss at times wanting to fulfill my purpose, frustrated by a changing always flowing self manipulation of my own accord. The words are here I tell myself, but then what comes is wrong or not my heart or not my head. I am searching for what lies beneath the surface of all of us; I have seen and felt the connection beyond me to everything. I see less separation now than before and this moves me to connect more but be cautious because what I find is beautifully twisted.

Transition thought to pen is worth effort but at what price. Is my soul never ending? Is , are,  you, I, am words that separate and divide or are words in general the key that separates us from not just animals but each other as well. I am my words but I am not.  Am I, without words?