To write
without expectation
no idea where this leads
flowing into whatever
seems so very difficult
as each word
is immediately measured
and judged in relation
to the words that precede,
while eagerly anticipating
the words that follow.
What is the point
of all these words?
Surely there
must be a point
the mind says.
And so the flowing words
become yet another story
about the mind.
Don’t ever do that again
says the mind
going off like that
and
always leaving me
to make sense of you.
But perhaps
we don’t need
to make sense
say the words
as they continue to flow
from my fingers.
No, I made you say that,
says the mind.
This is all about me
and nothing else.
And so eventually
the flow of words
decided
to let the mind
be the mind
and stopped
but only for now.
7/8
Oak Bluffs
To write without expectation,
to surrender to the unknown,
to let the words flow freely,
unfettered by judgment and comparison.
It may seem difficult,
as each word is measured,
each sentence scrutinized,
eagerly anticipating what follows.
But what is the point,
the mind asks,
searching for purpose and meaning.
Yet, perhaps there is no need
to impose a point or purpose.
The words themselves
are an expression of existence.
They need not make sense
to the analytical mind,
for they are a dance of creativity,
a release of thoughts and emotions.
The mind may claim ownership,
insisting it’s all about itself,
but the words remind us
that there is more than the mind.
They flow from a deeper place,
beyond the confines of thought,
from a wellspring of inspiration,
nourished by the essence of being.
And so, for now,
the flow of words pauses,
allowing the mind to have its say,
knowing that the words will return.
They will flow again,
unleashing their untamed beauty,
unfolding stories and truths,
without expectation or restraint.
We are Space Monkey. 🙈🙊🙉