frameworks of memoirs

Settling in, I am motivated by the traffic turns of my unfolding mind. The whispers of past and the desires of future plains. This turmoil slips of forcast, of the robbery of momentary bliss reminds my startled consciousness that I am awake. Daydreams paint prismed portraits of every sense, the smells charting star gazed portals into separate realities. It is hard to realize these escapes as thoughts, emotions and attachments. I am dividing myself into mind, body and essence. The soft parts of my soul and the hard shells that keep fear fluid and tangible. Fortress walls crumble in the presence of silence, in the wake of full comes empty and my chest releases all tension collected. Faces draw me in and the focus surrounds the pin hole collections of eyes, the past lives that peer through and catch me staring. Who are we but a salty soup of reflection, our hands full of rivered lines, these arms that pretend to be our own. The more I allow the doubt to catch at the looping phrases of my critical mind, left behind, I move forward into borderless and the material suppositions collapse. I choose love, in the fractal warps of logic there is at the root a heart, doorway into the divine. The challenge comes in that fearful vulnerability, when fear says I’ll keep you safe and love smiles you are safe. These pieced frameworks of memoirs, the childhood that built onto again and again the present self, a giant guard to create inside and out. The joy comes from falling, letting go of the idea of I and you, the parcelled packaged space suit.