Primitive Instinct
(To Love)

I slept the sleep of peace unfolding,
there within the forest's night. 'Twas
then I came to really meet my soul at last,
in essence. I began to see the little things
that once escaped my grasp of some
absurd totality. The moist, wet coolness
of one drop of rain that falls among so
many others, or chooses just to turn itself into
a mist of morning dew, within the sun ascending.
This is individuality; and this we share,
each one among the many, many, others
too askance of that one point so many seem
to think is normal.

All of this, now felt within the gist of an
enormous sense of being - each curious,
searching, unsatisfied look in the eye
that is now in a state of truly opening.
Oh, the sights and sounds and feel of
this, the ultimate of living ecstasy. To
merely be ourselves again, unique
among so many, many others (who
claim to be like-minded, but alas, have
never really come to find themselves
at all) . Yet ever has each one of us felt
that deepest yearning for a love
beyond belief.

Control is an illusion; merest fantasy of
ego that still wills one point to be the answer
to it all. While just one point can never
be distinguished in a multitude of clones.
For freedom is the essence of it all; yet
never in a sense of overpowering or its
extreme - the mispent reams of an absurdity
they came to call surrender. Perhaps the
words have yet to be created to describe this
feeling of a freedom born and living,
within the core of every living,
breathing being.

Ambition now has come to mean no more
than just damnation to us all, while patience
has become much more than just a waiting
game. One moment (that one moment when
we give up on ideas of dominion),
and thus might we all rise above
the sense and feeling of our present failures.
While shadows born in cages, feel only
the sense of an inexplicable finality
of failure and enclosure. Deeper, we must
reach much deeper yet; beyond the blind beliefs
of popularity of faith, if ever we are to attain it all.

Warnings come, more often and more
clearly evident (shall we deny their verity?)
before the violence strikes in a killing aptitude
that cannot be redeemed. Just then, within a
pause of silent wondering, we feel a sense that
somehow - something other than ourselves is
watching over all we do. And yet this feel is so
much more than any gross society has come to
bring into the deepness of unique reality.

There is often one who comes to be the strength
of safety, here among the many. Just then
the sense of all society must come to find
the meaning within loving nurturance.
That trait (so intimate and so redeeming)
that for so long has been labeled as no more
than merely feminine. And oh, it feels!
It feels it all, for real - even the absence of
that gross reality of need so evident
in time and space and intellect these days.

Violence, just for the sake of profit - isn't that what
war is really all about...? Even just now, no matter
any stance or reasoning of vengeance.
Another soldier fights his way, into another battle -
just then he feels them dying - all those instincts
that he ever knew, deep down inside as true -
oh, just when the many come and seek
to conquer yet another individual. When now,
just at the point when he might lose it all, one
small, slight bird comes to him and sings
him into flows of loving ecstasy again.

It is not just a dream, it is real. This realm of all
that means the most to each of us, so intimately
and then too, growing in a universal feel of all
that ever was and is and yet might come to be -
becoming life. To lose control, oh freedom, yes,
please open up to me yet once again; and let
me fly upon your winds of love again. But oh,
those games: they keep so many yet
just all tied up in knots inside, so deep into
each night - those games. No love, no honor,
nor even just a deeper sense that feels
like a commitment to infinity itself.

It leaves just only one, each one of us, each
individual - to speak at last in a defense
of all equality, with love. And here, the truth
of life must re-ascend. For no matter how hard
we attempt to make that last goodbye into reality,
yet still some ultimate of wisdom of the heart
must come to override it all. And over time, and
within space, just prays we finally come to speak
these words of grace to those we never really
came to love at all, not at this level or immensity
of dream's ever-expanding prophesy and true
propensity. Here every should and ought just seems
to bleed itself out off our system; and strategy
becomes no more than just another thought
of power and greed. How is it that the many
cannot seem to see how all of this is based on
only fear?

When freedom is here, even just when it might
seem to those divisions of so many cramped,
yet civilized minds of control, to be forever
out or reach to any one at all. Just here, is where
the fall into forever must begin. So take your fair
and equal share of all the wounding and
the many bruises; and shed you blood, if this
seems to be necessary - but oh my dears,
wherever will our kindness come back to the fore
of these, our daily lives? Then start to reconfigure
all the pain, hidden there within the you of just
yourself alone. And here, it has been promised
by the hand of fate itself, that each of us will
come to feel the wonder of all flight again.

They may attempt to terrorize, but where and
when and what within you, ever really came to be
that mass, that fear of someone else's felt sense of
control (by anyone but you alone)? Your choices
are your own, even amid the wars of many others,
but only if you choose to let yourself stand back,
just here, a bit askance of popularity. Fear - perhaps
the greatest of illusions that humanity has yet to rise
above, might rise just now to take it all away -
the vastness of the individuality of freedom calling.
Another deep, black velvet glove brings down that
mighty hammer found within the fear of
all illusive movements of the sense of "all of that."

Yet still, the power of all structure falls a little bit,
each time another individuality begins to call the
truth of its own spirit from the winds into the fore
of this - our known reality. And here, the greatest
dissolution of them all becomes the mightiest of
revolutions - in just one individual, just us (the many,
that too often seem to just support what truly is the
enemy of freedom singing in the skies again).

We love - is that not what we're born to do...?
One unto another unto all - high and low
with weak and small (amid the ever-altering
of each conditioned circumstance we come to be) -
and so we come to find the essence of all loving
unity again (for truly - there can be no other way).
And so we come in touch again, with
the most primitive of instincts - and that must be
just only this, the feel of love itself,
within the ever-growing wisdom of reality...

? Michaelette ?

Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...