yobech505

It Was a Day Like…

Like any other day, this day was, unlike any other day. Or we can make it not about a portion of measured time.  Would it direct itself  to a section of the continuum where measurable elements were a factor of no great perpetuity? 

This is as I am requesting, oh great connector.

Where did she originate?  Who was the postmaster who sent her to the same spot I was occupying in my wannabe wishes?  How did anything know I would be there at the same time she was, taking up physical space in closeness, but emotional space internally.  What witchy watch over determined that this was the location, much more than just a probability but a defining moment where one pole touches the other and the lights flicker before they illuminate completely?

It’s a lot more than just this untempted ‘me’ who occupied the indicated perimeter.  We were both there, at the same un-monumental moment that instantly changed to a level of majorly significant two into one.  And where do the clergyists come up with ‘let no man put asunder’?  If the great spirit joined us, ain’t no man has the power, ability or know how to split that back into pairs.  We’re one.  No three dot journalism here.

There is a complete lack of further want and the connectivity eliminates the possibility and desire for what is way past the developmental stage, morphing itself into a completed unit.  No need for anything more than continued exploration of togetherness and the clear path of one entity observing the beauty of the human world and the treasures of the ‘in depth’ part so many do not comprehend, which they show us by throwing the loco label into that which we internally develop into being unphased by.

So it is kept in silent mode, not as an ‘us’ sees or uses it but as the ‘they’ might perceive. That untelling is only for them, not us.  We revel in the whispers we share, the soft voices we interconnect with and the touch that  is more than anything a physical body can conjure.  

That day, the topic of this whole attempt at expressing my literature abilities, still appears as unreal as the grasping of a pin feather on an accelerating humming bird. 

This, as is naturally explained, is, in explanatory terms, the ‘why’ factor.  And that, is the whole reason for the unlikeness.  Aloof to the hypnotized populace, but explained only by those who experience it or with whom the carriers trust, it all connects.  She is never far from the insides of my undefinable self, able to touch the parts of our spirit that impacts who I am as it refers to our ‘us’.

We are pushed, shoved and jammed into a common unity, and despite the verbiage of these definitive words, we do this in an unfettered, willing manner, not unafraid but unprepared until we get to the feeling this is the right thing to experience.  From then, on, it is a growth purposed event,  set up by a source that far excels past the human ability to use or apply.  I know why she’s here.  So, why are we?   Temporarily hidden from the ease of surface senses, it all connects now.