The emptiness in fulfillment 

The older I become

   The more I understand 

But the less I’m understood 

   Because subterranean mumbles can only be heard by diggers of mystical tunnels 

in the bedrock of forever unknowings.

Where very few people venture to go 

because the lack of any definitive can  bring a sense of absence in being

Where there is no distinction between anything perceived 

In the great immensity of singular expanse.

The spinning 

There are so many things in modern living that take us away from the essence.

Insidious distractions of desire grown not from the earth but the bank vaults of currencies.

Spinning our destiny’s into the hollows of profit based insignificance.

We stand in the middle of Divine wonderment while searching for a WiFi connection to a manipulated nowhere.

And miss the true movement of the earth spinning in the essential wonderment of mystical revelry.

Where the wind of the spin whispers the ‘knowing’

that will continue to go tragically unnoticed 

until the spinning simply stops.